


Of Blue Eyes and Bonfires

by Kissy



Series: The Zeitgeist Trilogy [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissy/pseuds/Kissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When does love become obsession?  When does obsession become madness?  Rated for sexuality, brutality, violence, adult situations, and adult language. Pairing: Ashe x Basch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Gods._

You have no idea how long I've wanted you, Ashe.

I've made every excuse in the world to keep myself away from you. I cannot be near you. I  _cannot_. If you came to me tonight, I would become a monster.

I remember your touch. The wisp of your hair on my cheek…the feel of your skin against mine…the whisper of your breath as I held you close and wanted you and could not  _have_  you, Gods damn it all!

I close my eyes, and I can still see you push me away. You said yes to me that night with your actions, but still - you shunted me aside. You left me alone in the dimming heat of the bonfire. Alone! I slept not a wink that night, nor have I slept well since.

Ah, Gods! I've dreamt about you, incessantly, until it became madness. I still suffer from that insanity. It took me two years to forget your searing touch. And now you call for me. _Now!_

I know you were hurt when I didn't attend your coronation. I know you were perplexed by my absence. I needed to stay away from you. You had something that I wanted, and I wasn't about to be thrown in the dungeons - or _worse!_ \- because I could not control myself around you.

Why, why did you say no to me? Why didn't you let me have you? Why did you turn me aside? You have forever ruined me. What woman can replace you? Who else but you could have me - you stole my heart and then deserted me. You, and you alone, are the only woman to hold my heart in such a way that I cared naught for anything else…including myself.

And now I have returned to Rabanastre. As you have bid.

I have returned to you.

_Gods help me._


	2. Lost At (Sand) Sea

_When was it? When did we find each other’s company at the bonfire? Ah, yes. After we made it out of the Sandsea — dying of thirst and burnt by the sun — we made it to a small encampment. If it weren’t for the help of an old…friend, we wouldn’t have made it._

-=-=-=-=-=-

They found that the Sandseas were vaster than anyone told them. They knew it was far, but just how far was a mystery to everyone...and now they were lost. Perhaps the Urutan-Yensa themselves knew these lands well, but they weren’t telling anyone. 

They were in trouble. Their food had run out four days ago, and the last of their water bags ran dry yesterday evening. If they didn’t find their way out of the desert, they would die. Tonight, likely, and it was an awful way to go. 

“Could’ve used the Strahl right around now,” said Balthier. He mopped at his forehead with his sleeve. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Under…understatement,” panted Basch. “We’re going to die out here.”

Balthier hooked Fran’s arm tighter around his neck. She wasn’t unconscious, not yet, but Balthier had to half support, half drag her through the scree. “I don’t think we’ll die…not now, anyway. We can’t…I’m the…the…”

“Leading man…” finished Fran. She glanced up at Balthier, and grimaced. “Shut up, Balthier. You talk too much.”

Basch glanced at the setting sun, ran his tongue along his lower lip, and winced. He carried Penelo piggyback, and shrugged his shoulders to better distribute her weight. She lost consciousness hours ago, poor girl. He glanced behind him to see Ashe and Vaan. Good. They were all right, relatively so…but this was it. They all showed signs of advanced heatstroke and the searing sun badly burned them. He grinned mirthlessly, and his lips cracked and began to bleed. Basch himself was fair — he could only imagine what he looked like. Probably like a Nabradian sunset after an earthquake, he thought to himself. He sucked at his lip and wondered if the desert creatures would make a quick meal of their corpses. Or maybe they would lay and rot in the sun, to be found by some enterprising young archaeologist some three or four thousand years from now…maybe he…

“Does anyone else see that? What is that?”

Basch swung his body around to look at the owner of that high-pitched, wavering voice. It could’ve been anyone at this point. Ashe — it was Ashe, and she raised one shaking hand and pointed to the southern horizon. He looked ahead of them, to the south.

Not one of them had ever seen Basch smile with any amount of warmth, let alone laugh. Now Basch cackled at his own stupidity. Gods above, he was so dense. When in the world did they cross back into the Westersand…and cross that to get to the Estersand?

“We’re in Yoma,” he said, without sobering. “I don’t know how in the nine Hells we did it, but…that’s the River Nebra, Ashe!”

“The Nebra?” Fran shook her head. “We should have ended up in Rabanastre…how did we end up here?”

“Well, then,” Balthier chuckled, “that last sandstorm disoriented us far more than I thought. If that is the Nebra, then we’re saved, but we’re also incredibly thick, too.”

“It is the Nebra,” said Basch. “I’d stake my life on it.”

Vaan cheered in his newly rusted voice and raised his fists over his head. “Well, all right!” He loped past Basch and Balthier. “Race you!”

“Wait!” Basch made to race after him and tackle him to the hard packed earth, if necessary. Balthier grabbed his arm, eliciting a cry of pain from Basch (he was burned, far worse than he knew) and shook his head. 

“Let him go. If that is the Nebra — and I have no reason to believe it is not — he will get there first. Bully for him…but if it isn’t, it wouldn’t matter much in the end, now, would it?”

“I suppose not.” He hoisted Penelo again, and motioned to Vaan. “Let’s go, then.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

They found Vaan, about one quarter of an hour later, lying face-up by one of the many oases that dotted the land close to the river. He was laughing and groaning, and holding his distended belly. 

“Fool,” said Balthier. “You’re going to pay for that, Vaan.”

Vaan’s beatific smile never left his face. “Relax, Balthier. I’ve never felt better — HUUURK!” Vaan sat up suddenly and vomited in his lap. “Okay, never mind.”

“Ugh. You’d better hope that water wasn’t brackish or poisoned,” said Balthier, a _moue_ of disgust on his face. 

Fran, who tended to Penelo, looked up. “Does it matter?”

“Actually, yes,” said Basch. “North Bank Village is a three hour walk from here. If this water isn’t poison, we’ll be able to make it there after nightfall.” He knelt by the bank, and scooped a handful of water to his mouth. It was cool and clean — and although he knew what would happen to him if he drank too much, he did so, anyway. 

After one too many handfuls, he crawled away from his friends to vomit in relative solitude. When he could open his eyes, he watched Balthier approach. Balthier stood above him, smirked, and held his hand out to give Basch a boost. “ _Tcha_. Stupid. Was it worth being sick?”

“Yes — it was worth it,” said Basch when he was able to stand. He rubbed at his blistered mouth with the back of his hand. “It was as sweet as Madhu.”

Sunset was two hours away, and Balthier gazed in the direction of the settlement. He sighed. “That was close.” He glanced over his shoulder at Basch. “We need rest. Then we move. Let’s hope the locals don’t roll up their village at sunset.”

Basch shook his head absently. “They didn’t turn us away the last time we were there. And they owe us a favor.”

“ _Hunh_. The cactoid invasion, yes.” Balthier’s eyes widened. “I certainly hope Dran isn’t around…would he be able to make it back to this bank?”

“We may have caught the little bastard on the other side of the Nebra,” said Basch. He smiled thinly at Balthier. “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Balthier shuddered, and Basch chuckled inwardly. It was a rare thing indeed to rattle Balthier. The first time they saw Dran, the flowering cactoid was a part of the Hunt, and he put up a nasty fight. Balthier saw his last attack coming but couldn’t dodge out of the way fast enough…and then Dran fired what looked like a thousand needles into Balthier’s arse. It took the better part of a whole day and a very incensed Fran to remove all the needles. 

-=-=-=-=-=-

They walked back to the oasis, and Balthier froze. “Speak of the Devil, himself,” he tutted. “I ought to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

Basch glanced over at his friends and snorted. He didn’t know why, but Dran was amusing the party with some silly dance. His antics drew the attention of about two- or three-dozen cactoids, all of which joined his routine. Balthier ground his teeth and stomped to their little camp with Basch not far behind.

When the two arrived at the oasis, it was evident that Dran and his crew meant no harm. They had brought fruit and Dran even ordered his cactoid friends to bring some Valeblossom Dew salve for Penelo. She, being the healthiest person (except for Dran) in the camp at this point, administered the salve to the rest of her friends’ burns, under Dran’s supervision.

Dran bumbled to Ashe, and pointed to her lips, her arms, and her chest. Penelo knelt next to Ashe, and held out the little earthen pot. “Doctor’s orders, Lady Ashe.”

Ashe, acquiescing, dipped her fingers in the pot. “Valeblossom Dew…this will be nice... _hssss_!” She gasped when it touched her seared skin. “It burns a bit.”

“That’ll go away,” said Penelo. 

Ashe glanced at Penelo’s sopping jumpsuit. “Did it burn when you…?”

“Huh-uh. Couldn’t feel a thing. Ask Fran, she knows.”

“No, don’t ask Fran,” said Fran. She was obviously revolted. Her magnificent ears drooped slightly. “Fran doesn’t want to think about it, thanks very much.”

Basch sighed, and sat with his back to a palm trunk. He crossed his arms and pretended he didn’t feel like he was on fire. Dran turned his pudgy cactoid body to Basch, and wobbled over to where he sat.

Dran looked at Basch, and Basch returned his gaze blandly. Dran cocked his spiny head at Basch. Basch rolled his eyes, and scowled at Dran. Dran suddenly pursed his little cactoid lips.

Basch’s eyebrows drew together. “What do _you_ wan—?”

 _“Ickie-ickie-ickie-BLORP!”_ said Dran, as he spat an astonishing wad of viscous, slimy, ropy goo on Basch. Basch sat stupefied, eyes wide and jaw hung agape, as the goo soaked into his clothes and made his hair a sticky mat. It ran off him in rivers. He stood up suddenly, and began making little noises of disgust. 

“Gah! _Gah!_ What is this? It’s _everywhere!_ GAH!”

Balthier drew his gun. “Dran’s been asking for this…”

“No…wait!” Balthier and Basch turned to Penelo and Fran, who (Basch realized then) were also covered in nastiness. “It’s his way of healing you…it doesn’t hurt at all! See?” Penelo stood and did a pirouette. “I’m fine. You’ll be fine too, Basch. Stop being such a baby.”

Basch flicked his hands quickly to get the most tenacious clumps off, and scowled at Penelo. I am _not_ a baby…and I’m not carrying on. It’s just… _vile_.” He had to admit, though, he did feel worlds better. At least he wasn’t charbroiling from the outside in anymore. 

“Well, then I guess I’m going to have to dunk you when we get to the Nebra,” teased Penelo, as she gathered her things. 

Everyone picked up their belongings, and Penelo waved goodbye to Dran. Dran waved one of his flippered appendages at Penelo and scurried off. Balthier watched him go, and when he was out of sight, he yelled, _“So long, Dran! Hope I never see you again!”_

He reholstered his gun and turned to leave, when he heard a sickeningly familiar sound from behind him:

_“Ickie-ickie-ickie-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-T-T-T-T-T!”_

As Dran scampered away, giggling in his cactusy Pig Latin, Balthier’s voice rose in anguish:

_“OH YOU LITTLE BASTARD, YOU GOT ME AGAIN!”_


	3. Moonlight Sonata

They staggered into the encampment late that evening to a volley of exclamations and hails. They arrived four hours later than they originally thought, thanks to the two score or so of needles in Balthier’s posterior. 

They really must’ve looked like Hell warmed over, because a good portion of the villagers rushed to their aid. They were offered food, clothing, some more water (which, this time, their bellies accepted gratefully), and a comfortable bed. When a village girl offered Penelo and Basch fresh clothes, they declined at first.

“Erm…I think I need to bathe, first,” said Basch, as he picked at his leather vest and gingerly stripped it from his skin. It made a distinct _thwuck_ sound when it peeled away and his face reddened further under the sunburn. 

The girl – a pretty, young thing – appraised him silently as small smile spread across her fair face. Her smile was as sweet as Madhu. “I can help you with that, too,” she said, _sotto voce._

Blood crashed into his face. Had things changed so much since he was in gaol, that women would talk so freely to men – in _public!_ – in this fashion? He was speechless; nothing but a nonsensical susurrus came out of his mouth, and the saucy girl might have done something more drastic if an older man didn’t come up behind her and propel her back to their home. 

“Sorry about that,” the older man said. “Pay no heed to Jacy. She has a smart mouth on her, and a mind twenty years older than her body. She’s a handful.”

“No need to apologize,” said Basch. “She was merely asking to help.”

The man glanced at him sidelong. “You’re kidding, right? Where have you been the past ten or twenty years? Nalbina Dungeons?”

The effect of the old man’s words had a galvanizing effect on Basch. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes flew wide open, and the blood that had until just now suffused his face had dropped out of it until it turned an ugly shade of gray under the sunburn. 

“Hey, _hey!_ I didn’t mean to give you such a start, friend. Are you all right?”

He took a deep breath. “Fine – I’m fine.” 

As Basch slowly got himself under control, the man looked at his sticky clothing, and grinned companionably. “Dran got you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” He picked at his shorts, and compressed his lips into a thin line. “Yes, he did.”

“You’re lucky Dran found you, and you’re lucky Dran likes you. If Dran needed to help you and your companions, you were in a very sorry state indeed.”

“We’re grateful for it...?” Basch tilted his head slightly at the older man, unsure how to address him.

The man made a small sound of understanding. “Shamus. I’m one of the Village Elders here. Welcome back to our settlement.”

He picked at his tunic again. “Thank you, Shamus. I’ll tend to this now, if I may.”

“No problem. I just sent your little friend to the nearer dock,” said Shamus, as he nodded towards the one visible pile of stone and rotting wood. “You can go to the piers on the opposite side of the village.”

Basch shrugged. “Fine. Is the pier secluded enough that I won’t have an audience?”

“I’d say. It’s about a five hundred yard walk in that direction,” said the old man. He nodded to the north, and sure enough, in the distance Basch could see the dock. Inwardly, he groaned. Outwardly, he sighed, said thank-you to the Elder, and started his trek to the Nebra to get Dran’s snot off his skin.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Basch emerged from the clean, lukewarm waters of the Nebra. He sighed contentedly. _Ahhh, so this is what Heaven feels like_ , he thought to himself. He ran his fingers through his now-clean hair and blew another comfortable sigh. Since his recent liberation, he hated being dirty – not that he particularly _liked_ it beforehand, mind. 

He shuddered minutely. That cage…the conditions were beyond deplorable in the Dungeons itself, but his cage was a rat-infested hellhole. His food – when they remembered to feed him – was usually unceremoniously dumped on him. When the beatings were administered, it was usually by some filthy, lice-ridden Seeq that had found favor with one guard or another. Speaking of…

He glanced around, discomfited, and buried his fingers in his hair and checked his scalp. Huh. It seemed that Dran’s soupy, foul spit had another function as well. He hated that most of all, that horrible _crawling_ sensation that felt like his skin was ready to march right off his body. _Gods be thanked_ , he thought to himself. _That’s one less thing to worry me. At least I don’t have to tear all my hair out combing for double-cursed nits._

He sunk himself chin-deep in the Nebra, and didn’t know whether to be disgusted by the piss-warm temperature or to be transported because he was finally clean. He sighed again, leaned his head against the pier, and squeezed the water from his hair. He closed his eyes…

…And then they suddenly flew open when he realized there was a pair of arms around his middle. He turned his head, and Jacy was behind him. She grinned impishly at him. “Hullo.”

Basch turned scarlet. “Wha – what in the _world?_ What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m here to drop off some clean clothes. I’m also bored,” shrugged Jacy. “Like some company?”

“Jacy…I’m _en dishabille_ …it’s not proper!” Basch opened his mouth to say more before he realized that Jacy was in the same state as he. “You have to go home!”

Jacy shook her head. “I’m not going home. You look like you need a friend, that’s all. Need to talk?”

Basch looked at Jacy as if she was the most brainless creature in Ivalice. “What? Absolutely _not!_ ”

Jacy smiled. “Fine, but I’m a shoulder to cry on…and I don’t judge.”

He crossed his arms. “Right. If I told you what I’ve been through, you might change your mind.”

She looked at him frankly. “You looked lonely. I thought you’d like someone to talk to. Some company would make you feel less alone.”

Basch trembled a bit, nearly succumbing to what this child was offering. Gods, she was beautiful…but she wasn’t Ashe. 

He turned his body slightly away from her, and dropped his arms. “It’s my lot in life to be alone. Nothing can help that.”

Jacy approached Basch, and slipped her arms around his middle. “I can.”

He tilted her chin up to better look into her eyes. “I will not dally with you tonight. I am not one to leave a string of conquests behind me.”

“No,” she laughed, “that’s Balthier…and he’s too tied up in his Viera to play much. Besides, I’m not asking you to be my lover forever. Tonight is all I care about.” She smiled. “I’m not saying this to belittle you, but I can’t be tied to one man, anyway.”

Jacy simply gazed at him with frankness in her gray eyes. _Gray...like Ashe's..._ he thought, his head spinning. _Gods, help me._ Moonbeams shone in them and in her dark hair, darkened further by the night and by the Nebra. Basch didn’t know what lay beneath those shining eyes, but he was compelled to open his heart to them. He brought his hands out of the water, and stared at them as he spoke.

“I have always been alone. I’ve only been in love, once.”

Jacy’s face softened. “Who was she?”

Basch gazed at Jacy, and without a second thought drew her body close to his. “Someone I couldn’t ever have.”

Jacy pressed her lips together. “I pity her.” 

Basch’s eyebrows drew together slightly. “Why?”

“Because she missed out on a wonderful man,” said Jacy, as she ran her hands down his back. “And for tonight, I have him.”

His mind screamed at him to stop, but his traitorous body was on fire. This woman was willing, and he yearned for a woman’s touch…but it wasn’t Jacy he wanted. If he shut his eyes, he could almost see Ashe in his arms – it could be Ashe that touched his chest, or she that ran her fingers along his thighs. Not this one, this woman-child. Not Jacy…

Jacy touched that which now throbbed and swelled, and now he couldn’t stop himself, even if he tried. His breath came ragged. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, but that enveloping fire rushed in to replace them.

He ran the back of his fingers along her jaw-line. “You are something.”

She grinned impishly again. “Yup. I’m your friend.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Later, the circle of friends sat around the cook-fire, and argued bitterly in the dark. 

“I say we move, _now!_ The _Bahamut_ is not going to wait for us!” Balthier rested his forearm on his knee, and gesticulated with the wineskin in his free hand. “If we move tonight, the _Strahl_ can get to it by tomorrow evening.”

“What’s the rush?” said Vaan. “The _Bahamut_ is on the other side of Ivalice. It doesn’t move very fast…and we know exactly where it’s heading. It's going to take the _Bahamut_ ten days to get to Rabanastre. Why rush if we don't have to?”

“We need rest, Balthier,” said Basch. “I’m not young anymore, and this pace is killing me. If we can rest one day before we tackle the _Bahamut_ , I wouldn’t complain as much.”

“We don’t _have_ that luxury! Rabanastre is imperiled, and we have the means to finish Vayne _now!_ ” Ashe nodded to Balthier. “He’s right. We can do this now, and rest afterward.”

“Ashe,” said Fran gently, “we will stop him…but I agree with the others. One day of rest will do everyone good, and we will be fresh for the fight. I imagine this battle won’t be easy.”

Balthier flashed Fran a hurt look. “I expected you to be on my side about this. We can finish this tomorrow, and be in our own homes for tea next day.”

“ _What_ home?” Fran raised one perfectly groomed silver eyebrow. “I say we take whatever rest we can and then tackle the _Bahamut_. I won’t brook any argument on this anymore, you two.” Fran narrowed her eyes at Balthier, stood, and made her way to their tent. “Rest while you can, everyone. We leave morning after next.”

Balthier crossed his arms. “I suppose that settles that. See you all in the morning.” He stood suddenly, and stomped to his and Fran’s tent. 

The rest of the party watched the two leave. “That was ugly,” said Vaan. “I didn’t want to cause those two to argue.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” said Basch. “Those two are opposed on this, and we would’ve argued about this all night. Best to get their arguments out of the way now.”

Shamus approached their little encampment. “Sure I can’t convince you guys to stay in our homes? They’re much more comfortable than those tents.”

“Thank you, no. We don’t want to impose on your village anymore than we already have.” Ashe grasped Shamus’s hand warmly. “Your help is all we really needed. If there’s anything we can do…”

“Well,” said Shamus, “you wouldn’t mind helping out some around the village tomorrow, then? Sounds like you’re staying a bit…your help would be all we’d need. You game?”

“Certainly. We’re indebted to you,” said Basch. “I’d be glad to help.” His friends echoed his sentiments, and Balthier grumbled an “ahh, whatever” from the confines of his tent. 

Shamus nodded, and bade them a good night. Basch glanced at Ashe across the cook-fire. She caught his gaze, and frowned at him. “I would think you’d be in agreement with me.”

“I am, in everything you say and do, Highness. But on this point, I will be in opposition to you.” Basch stared at his hands. “Forgive me, Highness.”

They glared each other warily, and Basch dropped his eyes first. He couldn’t bear the heat in her gaze…and his own mortification. He couldn’t look her in the eyes, not after what he did with Jacy.


	4. Raise Me Up

Bright and early the next morning, they began assisting the villagers. Shamus found plenty of little chores for the ragtag group of revolutionaries to do around the village. As the sun peeked over the horizon, Basch found himself in the Nebra again.

Basch surfaced alongside a little boat. He threw his dagger to the bottom of the vessel, muttered a particularly vile oath, and swiped his hair out of his eyes. He glared at Balthier, who was the very eye of serenity (and dry, besides) as he clumsily cast his line.

“Tell me again why we exchanged chores, Balthier,” he growled. “And speaking of which – _my_ chore was gathering firewood…why are you fishing?”

“I exchanged chores with Vaan,” said Balthier. “Firewood gathering just isn’t my thing – not to mention I’d be risking life and limb out in the Estersand gathering it…”

Basch hauled himself into the little dinghy. “Isn’t that what you said when you got the hull-scraping chore? That you couldn’t swim, and that you’d rather risk life and limb in the Estersand gathering wood rather than drowning?” Basch hung his legs over the side, and hooked his arms over the opposite bow. He lay back, and let the sun dry his hair. “You’re floating twenty or so feet over the river bottom. Still afraid of dying?”

The suave Sky Pirate smirked. “No. I’m afraid, however,” said Balthier as he reeled in another empty hook, “that this particular spot of the Nebra is devoid of fish.”

Basch closed his eyes, rocked his head back, and enjoyed the morning sun. “That isn’t the problem, Balthier. You aren’t catching anything because you’re a poor fisherman.” 

“Mmm,” Balthier murmured. “There _is_ that, I suppose.”

Their half-joking banter was interrupted by a commotion behind the boat on the dock, and the two men glanced over their shoulder at the twittering gaggle of young women that congregated there. One of the girls looked familiar to Balthier. He remembered it was Jacy, Shamus’s youngest daughter. Balthier turned his head to behold Basch, as he slowly returned Jacy’s sweet smile. 

Balthier raised his eyebrows cynically. “It looks like Jacy has a crush on you.”

The corners of Basch’s mouth curled slightly. “So it does.”

Balthier appraised Jacy. Not too shabby...the girl was athletic; she had a moderately pretty face and red hair – perfect for an evening or two of sport. He baited his hook, cast his line, and said, “Someone like Jacy is just the ticket to make a man feel like a man, eh?”

“Yes,” said Basch, as he cocked one eyebrow slightly. “You can say that.”

Balthier smirked wickedly at the water. “You’ve already dallied with Jacy, haven’t you?”

Basch locked eyes with Jacy, and he smiled shyly at her. She winked at him and strolled back to the village. He returned his gaze to Balthier, and grinned. “Yes, I have.”

He looked at Basch sidelong. He could not keep the rueful grin off his chops “You _do_ know she’s fourteen, yes?”

Basch’s smile slipped off his face. He blinked. “ _What?_ ” He laughed nervously. “Don’t jest like that.”

“It’s no joke, Captain,” said Balthier mock-sorrowfully. “She’s a mere sprat. You cad, you.”

Basch stared into space as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Gods. What have I done?”

“From what I gather from half of the young men here, you've 'done' the most available girl in this entire village,” said Balthier. He shifted on his uncomfortable wooden seat. “Chances are, you didn’t deflower her. She seems the type to spread the wealth.” Balthier chuckled. “Pardon the pun.”

Basch pressed the heels of his palms to his temples as he hung his head over the bow of the boat…and nearly jumped out of his skin as someone dumped a bucket of ice water on his half-naked body. 

When Basch could think, he whipped his head around, ready to rip the arms off the nimrod that doused him. When he realized it was Ashe, he blinked again. “What…what in the _world_ , Ashe?”

“How _dare_ you take advantage of a mere girl, Captain? You…you monster!” She stomped away towards the village.

Balthier snorted through his nose. “Yon Princess likes her drama, does she not?” He stood, putting his palms against the small of his back and grimacing with some pleasure as his spine crackled. “Let me do some damage control. I'll return shortly.” 

Twenty minutes later, Ashe and Basch sat side by side on the dock's edge. Balthier had convinced Ashe to return to the dock to talk to Basch. She had acquiesced, but had made no promises of civility. Basch busied his twitchy hands and whirling thoughts with a fishing pole, as Ashe swung her hands back and rested her body-weight on her palms. She inclined her head at Basch, and gave him a wry smile. “I lost my mind for a second, there. I’m sorry for that.”

He cast his line again. “There is no need for apologies. It was my fault. I had a moment’s weakness and couldn’t control myself.” He smiled, despite himself. “I had no idea how old she was, either. Her body and mind belied her age. I never expected it.”

Ashe tightened the little ponytail she had fastened at the nape of her neck. “I know you didn’t. Still, I had no right to do what I did. Your life is your own. You have every right to do what you want. I…I can’t – ” She stared at her cocked knees, obviously embarrassed about something. 

Basch sensed her discomfort, and tucked the fishing rod into its holder at the edge of the dock. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, and gazed at Ashe with frankness that unsettled her even more. “What is it, Lady Ashe?”

She pushed on. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you in Nalbina. How you spent two years in a cage with no companionship…it might’ve driven me mad, if it were me.”

“It _did_ drive me mad.” When Ashe’s gaze came about sharply, she realized that Basch wasn’t here on this dock with her anymore, but in the Dungeons – in his cage, wasting away, without anyone to talk to but the rats. 

He grimaced unconsciously. “I wanted nothing more than revenge…nothing more than to bring down the Empire. The only thing that kept me alive for those two years was my insanity. I don’t know how else I would’ve survived, otherwise…because I felt so alone.”

“No one to talk to but Gabranth, when he came to gloat?” Ashe made a moue. “He kept you in that cage…for what?”

Basch grabbed the pole from its holder and reeled in another empty, twisted hook. The corners of his mouth curled slightly as he reached behind his back for his tackle. He deftly untied the hook and set the line in his teeth. As he changed his hook and baited it, he spoke to his busy hands. “I’m not sure if he kept me there because he wanted to gloat over me. Perhaps I was kept in that cage because he didn’t want me to be executed.”

He looked up at Ashe, the line still in his teeth. He grinned mirthlessly around it. “That cage stripped me of my humanity. Now look at me. Friends surround me again. I fight for my people.” He spat out the line and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “I am nearly whole.”

“Nearly?”

Basch raised his eyebrows slightly as he cast again. “Jacy filled the void in me for a few hours. She may be young, but she knew what I needed.” He glanced at Ashe, then back down to the reel. Color bloomed in his cheeks. “I am a man with needs. She fulfilled my needs.”

Ashe nodded absently as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, unconsciously mirroring Basch. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know…forgive me.” Without thinking, she reached out and touched his bare side.

Basch gasped, and jumped convulsively. The corner of his mouth curled, and he snorted laughter. The fishing rod slipped from his hands and clattered off the dock into the water. He watched it slide beneath the wavelets, and tutted once. He gave Ashe a withering glance. “Thanks, Highness.”

Ashe lowered her head, and narrowed her eyes at Basch. She suddenly experienced a brief memory of Rasler. Funny thing, this memory didn’t hurt like she thought it would. Rasler may have been Prince of Nabradia, and leader of its peoples, but he was enormously ticklish. Ras hated it when Ashe got it in her head to tickle-torture him. He was at Ashe’s mercy, for one thing…but it rankled mostly because she was _good_ at it. 

Oh, memories. Ashe grinned widely at Basch.

“Captain…what ails you?” Ashe took all her fingers and ran them down his belly, feather-light. 

The action surprised a hoarse shout of laughter from the good captain, and he flailed away from Ashe and her torture. “ _Stop that!_ ” He was on his back, and crab-walked away from her. His posterior thumped to the dock, and he raised his upper body on his elbows. “Don’t do that!”

Ashe stood, smiling sweetly, and walked to his prone body. She smirked before she rested her knee on his belly, and waggled her fingers in his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain!”

Basch looked at the other end of the dock, where several smiling villagers congregated. He tipped his gaze up at Ashe, as he bit his lip. “Don’t – don’t do it. Don’t humiliate me.”

“I don’t want to humiliate you,” she said. “I just want to do _this._ ” She brought her fingers down upon his belly and began doing just what she promised she _wouldn’t_ do. 

Oh, how embarrassed he was! He cackled laughter, his face turned an interesting plum shade, and tears of mirth streamed from his eyes…all the while, he screamed at her to _stop – stop, damn it all! STOP!_

He thrashed his way to the edge of the dock and got the purchase he needed to bring one foot up into her midsection and push her off. She waved her arms, cackling herself. She landed on her fanny, hard. “ _OOF!_ ”

Basch looked up. He sobered when he saw what he did. “Ashe! Forgive m – _WHOA!_ ” The momentum needed to push Ashe off propelled him off the dock, and he tumbled ass over teakettle into the river. 

When he surfaced, the throng of laughing villagers further embarrassed him. He pulled himself out of the water, and stomped to where Ashe sat. She was still giggling, and the sight of his sopping hair and drooping shorts made her sides hurt. She pointed at Basch. “You’re a sight!”

Ashe stopped laughing when she realized the high color in Basch’s cheeks wasn’t from mirth anymore; she sobered further when he slowly approached her. “Basch?”

“You’ll disgrace me no longer, girl,” said he, _sotto voce,_ as he grabbed Ashe and hoisted her over his head and made his way to the edge of the dock. Ashe’s eyes widened and she screeched when he straightened his arms over his head. “No… _no!_ You can’t! _You can’t!_ ”

“Actually…I can,” said Basch. With that, he chucked her over the side into the river. She surfaced, spluttering, her arms flailing wildly, before she disappeared beneath a tiny eddy. 

Basch stood at the edge of the pier, completely nonplussed, before raising his hands over his head…this time in frustration. “Don’t _any_ of my friends know how to swim?” He jumped in, grabbed Ashe, and towed her back to the pier. 

While he dragged her back to shore, Ashe did her level best to make Basch’s life difficult. She tried to climb onto his head and out of the water (while they were both still in about fifteen feet of it) and nearly killed her rescuer. He gagged and shook his hair out of his eyes. “Ashe…Ashe! Stop! Here’s the dock. Grab it, already!”

Ashe clutched the worn wood in a death-grip. She spat river water and punched Basch in the arm. “I told you not to do it!”

He grabbed the dock, and boosted his arms up on the deck. “I thought that meant you didn’t want me to throw you in! I had no idea you couldn’t swim, Ashe!”

“I never learned the sport,” she sniffed, as she struggled up on her own forearms.

Basch laid his cheek on his forearm. He snorted laughter. “Swimming isn’t a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning.”

“Very funny.”

Basch boosted himself out of the river. He stood, dripping, over where Ashe had the dock in a grip of iron. He frowned at Ashe. “Anything else Her Highness wants to do to humiliate me?”

Riled, Ashe glanced at him blandly. “Now that you mention it…yes.” She reached up, lightning-quick, and grabbed the hems of his shorts. Basch had a split second to register what she had planned before she yanked his shorts around his ankles.

“Thank you for the reminder, B…” She looked up, and immediately crimsoned. She should have known. Basch stood before her, arms crossed over his chest, as red as a beet, and as naked as the day he was born. 

Jacy was in the milling throng of villagers. Smiling, she turned to her friend as she hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Basch. “And you wanted to know why I did it? _That’s_ why.”

Basch shut his eyes, mortified. “I have to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

Ashe was as mortified as he was. “Basch…wh – where’s your breech-clout?”

He glared at her. “Do _you_ usually wear underwear under your swimsuit?” He bent and quickly yanked his shorts back to their accustomed position. After he secured them, he grabbed Ashe’s arms and bodily hauled her out of the water. 

She reached out to touch his arm. “Basch…I…I didn’t mean…”

He dodged her touch. “Save it.” He stormed past Ashe and pushed his way through what seemed to be half the village. A few brave souls clapped sardonically as he made his exit. Ashe was alone on the dock, alone to brave the laughing mob that had formed when she decided to poke fun at her friend. That selfsame friend had sworn fealty to her, and she just stomped all over his pride. She crossed her arms, cupped her elbows in her hands, and cursed herself for a fool.


	5. Journal 1: Penumbra

_Journal entry: 10 October 706 O.V._

_We found the settlement yesterday. Thank the Makers we did. If we did not, everyone would have died. It would have been another black mark on my conscience if anyone else fell on my watch._

_Black marks, indeed. If there were any more of them, my soul would be as dark as midnight. I almost wish we_ didn’t _find the village. Too many things have happened to me since my imprisonment. I wish sometimes that some fiend would put an end to me and be done with it._

_But this village…they took us in, and treated us with kindness. They fed and watered us; they even offered their houses to us for the night (which we politely declined). Some were friendlier than others…_

_Last night, I lay with a woman for the first time in over two years, and I have never felt as defiled or tainted during the act of love as I did last night. Nevertheless, I needed the touch of a woman, so I let it happen. My body wasn’t willing, however, until I saw Ashe in my mind. My body responded to Jacy’s skillful manipulations after that, but her ministrations meant nothing to me. Were it you, Ashe…_

_Highness, I disgraced you today. Not just when I dallied with Jacy (I’ll forever be sullied by my actions last night), but when I lost my temper with you. When I doused you in the Nebra, I saw you sink. Gods help me, but for a split-second I almost turned on my heel and walked away. For a split-second, I felt…free. I was freed from the chore of playing the part of the valiant knight._

_I sometimes find it difficult to separate my love for you and this mad obsession I have_ of _you. When the two war with one another, I imperil you._

_Sometimes I can’t tell whether the thoughts in my head are truly mine anymore. I am not sure how much longer I can hold my own mind together. It is only a matter of time until I endanger the woman that holds my heart._

_I’m not myself anymore. I haven’t been myself in a long time._


	6. Nectar of the Gods

That night, Ashe and her friends relaxed by the fire-pit. It was a nice day, despite nearly drowning when Basch – that _lout_ – threw her into the Nebra. Still, she needed to talk to him. Something was…off, with Basch.

Ashe circled the fire where Basch sat in silence, wolfing his food. She winced. He wasn’t an animal by any stretch of the imagination, but he nearly starved to death during his stint in the Nalbina Dungeons. She supposed he would carry this idiosyncrasy for the rest of his life.

She sat down next to him, and played with the hem of her jacket. “Um…Basch? There’s something that I…”

“Have you tried the fish? It’s really good,” said Basch, through a mouthful of food. “I think this is the fish I caught today…”

“Basch…”

“There’s something about this dish that I can’t put my finger on, but I can’t stop eating it…”

“Oh, for Galtea’s sake, Basch – _listen_ to me!” Ashe took the plate of food from Basch to get his attention. Until she actually had the plate in her hands, she had an odd, sharp feeling that he would have snapped at her fingers like a dog when she touched his food.

Basch swallowed his food and reached for the plate. “Give that back!”

“What the...Basch, what’s _wrong_ with you?”

-=-=-=-=-=-

There were two girls hidden from view, beside the fire-pit. They watched one person fall to his supper with gusto. “Perfect,” said the redhead. “Go on, Blondie, eat up.”

Her partner in mischief was a dark-haired lass with bright, intelligent eyes. “What’s so important about feeding that lummox?”

Jacy held a small phial that held a few drops of pearlescent fluid up to one eye. “See this?”

The youth gave Jacy a withering glance. “Where did you find that?”

“Remember the last time I went to South Bank Village?”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I filched this from Dantro’s house. Wanna know what it is, Della?”

Della blinked. “That’s…that’s not the ambrosia that went missing, is it?”

Jacy twirled the phial between her fingers. “The same.”

“Jacy, you can get into a heap of trouble for that…” Della sighed dramatically. “Let me guess, you slipped it into the big guy’s food, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jacy giggled. “It won’t hurt him…I don’t _think_ it’ll hurt him, anyway.”

“What does it do?” Della eyed the phial doubtfully.

“Well,” said Jacy, “it makes the user…open to suggestion.”

Della smiled. “Plan on having some more sport with Blondie?”

“Maybe I do,” said Jacy. “He was fun last night.”

Della frowned at the phial. It was nearly empty. “Jacy…one dose of ambrosia is a _drop._ How much did you give him?”

Jacy held the phial before her eyes, and swirled its contents. “Relax, Della. Honestly…you worry too much.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Basch made a clumsy grab at his plate. “Ashe, come on! Give me back my supper!”

Ashe glanced at Basch curiously. "Are you… _intoxicated?_ ”

Basch grunted soggily. “Hard- _ly._ May I have my plate, please?”

She sniffed at the plate…there was nothing she could detect, save fish. It was sweet, and a little bit spicy, but still – it didn’t seem like there was anything amiss. She quickly grabbed a piece of meat, sniffed at it again, and with no reason save curiosity, popped it into her mouth…and immediately felt the dizzying sensation of flying. She chewed reflectively, and swallowed. When she recognized the spicy taste to be ambrosia, Ashe eyed Basch a moment before she spun on her heel and made her way to the docks with his meal.

“ _HEY!_ ” Basch unsteadily followed her to the docks. “Give that back!”

-=-=-=-=-=-

“Uh-oh.” Jacy rocked back on her heels and let the palm fronds she held flow back into place.

Della frowned. “What is it, Jacy?”

Jacy nodded to the back of Ashe’s head, as she and Basch wandered off to the nearer of the two docks. “Sandy just took a dose of the stuff.”

“ _Hn._ Guess you’re not gonna play with Blondie tonight,” Della laughed.

Jacy pouted a moment. “Dammit.” She glanced sidelong at Della, and the two girls laughed uproariously.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Basch looked over the side of the dock, and frowned at his ex-dinner. “Hey, Ashe? If the fish eat my food…does that make them cannibals?”

Ashe rolled her eyes, and snorted laughter. “Yes, I guess it does, Basch.”

“ _Hmph_ …bastards.” His mouth twisted wryly. “So you aren’t going to let me eat more of whatever was _in_ my food?”

Ashe washed the plate clean. “Absolutely not, Captain. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Oh, well,” said Basch, as he wove unsteadily down the pier with his hands behind his back. He approached Ashe and held a bottle out to her. “I guess this Madhu will have to do…”

Ashe’s jaw thumped to her chest. “You…you were supposed to _sell_ that!”

Basch sidled next to her, and she could smell the sweetness of the Madhu mixed with the spicy scent of the ambrosia on his breath. It was quite pleasant, and Ashe’s head spun a little more. Basch’s eyes were a bit unfocused, his pupils quite dilated. “I sold most of them...I haven't gotten around to selling this last one.” He grinned wolfishly. “Care for some, Majesty?”

Against her will, Ashe grinned nastily back at Basch. “I ought to drink it _all_ on you, Basch,” said she, clumsily snatching the bottle of wine from his grasp. She over-balanced and nearly ended up in the Nebra again. Basch grabbed her arm and pulled her from the brink. She found her balance again and twisted out of Basch’s grasp. She upended the bottle and took a long draught from it. When Basch managed to pluck it from her hand, she had put away one-quarter of it.

Basch swirled the contents of the bottle. He gave Ashe an angry glare. “Oh – for Galtea’s _sake,_ Ashe!”

Ashe smacked her lips. She could suddenly feel the whole _world_ spin.

Penelo took that opportunity to approach them on the dock. “You’ll never guess what they’re doing at the shore tonight…they have a story-weaver!”

Basch’s eyes lit up. “A story-weaver…I’ve not heard one in ages!”

Penelo took Basch’s arm in one hand and Ashe’s in the other, and steered them towards the village. “C’mon! Let’s not keep him waiting!”

-=-=-=-=-=-

When the three adventurers arrived at the bank of the Nebra, they saw every single villager in attendance. Penelo dragged Basch and Ashe through the milling crowd, to a huge semi-circle of palm trunks around a ramshackle stage before the fire.

Penelo clasped her hands, and jumped in place for a bit. “Isn’t this exciting? We get to sit up front with the newlyweds! That’s who this story-circle is for.”

“A place of honor,” said Ashe. She glanced at the story-weaver. “We couldn’t possibly…”

“You can, and you will,” said the story-weaver. “Sit. We waste precious time.”

Basch found an empty seat between Shamus and a portly matron. He sat with his back to the palm trunk, gazed up at Ashe, and held his hand out to her. “Sit with me, Ashe.”

A thrill raced up Ashe’s spine, as she snuggled her back against Basch’s belly. He threw one arm across her shoulders, so that he was more comfortable.

To tell the truth, it made Ashe decidedly _un_ comfortable. Oh, it felt good to cuddle with another warm body, but still…it was an odd feeling, pressed against someone who (until recently) she thought was her father’s killer. Ashe’s traitorous body molded to his. She sighed, and laid her head in the valley between his shoulder and his neck.

She blearily glanced at her friends. Well, she shouldn’t feel so self conscious…Balthier and Fran had obviously decided to bury the hatchet, and sat twined about each other.

Fran looked lovely in the homespun dress a particularly tall and slim villager had given her after Dran covered Fran's battle gear with slobber. Her magnificent silver-white hair was down. Fran sat close to Balthier, between his knees, her own legs folded primly beneath her. Balthier glanced at Ashe, and winked.

Smiling, Ashe turned her gaze to Vaan and Penelo, who were all but piddling in their shorts over the story-weaver. Evidently, this was Vaan’s first time, and he was ecstatic. Penelo giggled over something he said, and looped her arm in his.

Ashe sighed again. _If only my life was as uncomplicated as theirs_ , she thought, before banishing the thought out of her mind. That was a cruel way to think. Everyone in her circle of friends had complications. Everyone…

She looked up at Basch. He smiled shyly, and squeezed her close. “It begins soon,” he whispered.

Ashe nodded as the story-weaver approached the newlyweds. The couple sat beneath a gaily decorated and flower-bedecked arbor. They were young, and obviously crazy about each other.

The story-weaver took the newly-wed couple's hands. “I found your tale in one of my childhood storybooks. Would you be insulted if your tale was a child’s fable?”

“Not at all,” said the young woman. “I would love to hear it.” Her husband echoed her sentiments.

The weaver nodded. “Very well.” He raised his arms over his head, and it began.

The bonfire threw multicolored sparks, and the villagers oohed and aahed. Ashe knew that they were merely pyrotechnics, but felt slightly out of place as the only jaded person in the throng. She glanced up at Basch and saw something amazing – a wide grin split his face, and his eyes seemed lit from within. He rested his head against hers.

His simple joy decided it…Ashe decided that her life wasn’t going to end if she didn’t pooh-pooh over something as simple as fireworks. She hefted the weight of disbelief over her head, and soon enough, she cheered and gasped along with everyone else.

After the light show, the story-weaver lowered his hands, and spoke to the newly wedded couple.

“This is your tale. Listen well. I ask of you: hearken upon this Story and take heed of its words, as you may never hear it again. The Gods have given to me this, Their word. They give this story, in love, to this couple. This is their legacy, and they must lock this story in their hearts to tell their children, in turn, on the day that they are born. The Gods told me the tale of Daza the Just and her consort Ori.

“Ori and Daza loved one another. Ori showered Daza with devotion, and he gave her all that she wanted. There was nothing that he _didn’t_ give to her. He so spoilt Daza that he had no idea what to give her for their wedding. He thought long and hard, for many days and nights, until his head was fit to split! His affianced saw that he was pensive, so Daza sent Ori away.

“She said, ‘Beloved! Please go to the sacred spring that flows near my grandmother’s home. It has given me peace and stillness in my heart when I’ve needed it. It has answered my most insistent questions, too. Go, and be peaceful and still for our wedding next month.’

“Well, he did go to this spring, and he sat by the water’s edge, pondering his gift. He sat for many days, until he became agitated and frustrated.

“Ori threw a stone into the spring. He said, ‘Gods! What must I do? I have thought long and hard on this, and have not come across anything that I can give to Daza. What do I do?’ he cried in agony, since the wedding was seven days away, and he was a six day walk away from his heart’s blood.

“He then heard a many-layered voice in his head and his heart and his soul. It said, ‘Fear not, for you already know the answer.’

“He looked about for the owner of the voice, but no one was there but himself, and the spring. ‘Who are you?’ said he.

“The voice replied, ‘I AM. Heed me, child. I am here to show you what you have already seen. What did you do, when you felt anger and frustration?’

“Ori picked up a rock, and threw it into the spring with a splash. ‘I did that,’ said he, and then he saw what his eyes did not see before. Rings – perfect, concentric rings flowed out from where the rock had submerged itself. One ring followed another, and each grew until it had petered out by the spring’s edge. The moon rose, full and lovely, above the man and the spring. It shone upon the water with silver light.

“Ori knew. ‘Oh, I see!’ said he. ‘I know – I _know_ now what to give Daza!’ He tore away to his home, taking not six days but two. He made a small silver armband for his beloved, and then rushed to Daza’s home to wed her.

“After their ceremony he stopped the traditional embrace. ‘I have something for you, Beloved.’ He presented her the trinket.

“She was used to his gifts of affection, so she said brightly, ‘It is pretty, my Husband…but what is it?’

“He smiled down at her and said, ‘It is a symbol of all my love and devotion to you. It is silver – a symbol of the Moon and of Galtea. Galtea will bestow many children upon us and give us much prosperity. It is a circle, with no beginning, and no end – just as my love is for you. I shall put it on your left arm. This will ensure that my gift to you will be closest to your heart. The spring showed me this. Thank you, Daza. Thank you for your wisdom – and for your patience with me. I would never have thought of this without your help, or the Gods.’

“Daza smiled up at Ori, and said: ‘I know, Beloved, but you only know half of the story. You see, I had help from the Gods myself.’ With that, she presented Ori with the mate to her armband. It was a perfect match. Daza smiled again. ‘Didn’t I tell you that you would find all your answers at that spring?’”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The story-weaver spread his arms in a sweeping bow, and everyone cheered tumultuously. Some of the villagers had brought some instruments to the story-circle, and a wild, lovely noise filled the air.

Basch absently wrapped his arms around Ashe, and pressed his cheek against her hair. Ashe responded in kind, by crossing her own arms over his embrace as she dropped her head on Basch’s shoulder. It was in this fashion that the inebriated pair fell asleep at the end of the story-weaver’s tale.

“Balthier?” Fran inclined her chin at Basch and Ashe. “Should we wake them?”

He looked to the slumbering pair, and shook his head. “No, they’ll be all right. They sleep like the dead. They won’t roll into the fire-pit or anything like that. Let them sleep.” He considered something for a moment. “Are _you_ ready for bed?”

Fran dropped her head on Balthier’s shoulder. “I might be.”

“Tired?” Balthier smiled into her hair.

She looked up at him, and smirked. “Not yet.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

After the last villager left for home some time later, Basch slowly opened his eyes and glanced around muzzily. He grinned down at Ashe, who had also woken up. “I haven’t heard Daza and Ori’s tales since I was a child. I didn’t think anyone remembered those old stories.”

Ashe rubbed her eyes and stretched. She threw off the blankets that some kind soul had draped across them. “Mmm, yes. I think I was still in diapers the last time I heard that one.”

They looked to the bonfire. Its intensity was fading fast, but it still bathed them with its warmth. Ashe locked eyes with Basch. “I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

“Hmm?” Basch shrugged, nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

“Tonight, during the fireworks, you…you looked happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”

Basch nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t been this happy since childhood.”

She laid her palm on his chest. “Why?”

Basch drew her body closer. “Because I have you in my arms.”

Ashe looked away. “Don’t do this. We are both inebriated…I cannot…”

He nuzzled her cheek. “Please don’t say no to me, not tonight. Don’t make me beg you.”

Ashe’s eyes filled with easy tears. “Please…please don’t beg _anything_ from me.”

He touched her face with the back of his fingers. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

She looped her arms around his neck, and moved by the loneliness in his eyes, began to cry in earnest. “You won’t be.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Was this right, the lovely fire that enveloped them? Was it right that she wanted Basch to have her tonight? Did it matter? Could she stop the ebb and flow of sensation that took over her entire being? Was control as intangible as the nebulae that painted the night sky?

“Don’t stop,” she panted, as he lay her down on one of the blankets. His lips touched hers, and her head spun again.

“I _can’t_ stop!” He removed her dress, and dipped his mouth to her vulnerable throat. She inhaled sharply. Such sensations! She nearly gave in to them, before her rational mind took control and bade her stop.

_Ashe! What is this? Stop at once…you have your Rasler’s memory to consider!_

She fought against that voice. Rasler may have been her heart’s blood, but he wasn’t _here_ , damn it all!

Basch disrobed, and his desire was immediate. His breath was ragged. He nudged her. “Let me in.”

Ashe lay on their blankets, naked and vulnerable. She brought her hands to her mouth, and shook her head violently.

His eyes widened. When he found his voice, it was hushed. “No. You can’t say ‘no’ to me. Not now.”

Ashe blinked at Basch’s intensity. “Basch…I’m frightened.”

He stopped. His eyebrows knit together as he lowered himself to his elbows. “You – you’re not frightened of _me_ , are you?”

Effortless tears fell from Ashe’s eyes. She did the only thing she _could_ do. She lied. “No…I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what I’m feeling.”

Basch nodded slowly. “Do you truly want me to stop?”

Ashe pulled him close. “No. I want this, but I’m scared.”

He could have taken her, right then. He could have plunged himself to the root in her and used her and found his own sweet death, but…his life, his whole stinking _god-damned LIFE_ revolved around Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca. So he cradled her, loved her, and brought on her release.

Such sweet music she made of his name! She gasped her affirmation to him, and he responded in kind.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Later, Ashe watched Basch while he slept. Oh, her heart ached! Why did she let him love her tonight? What did she do? Basch was her brave Champion, and her friend, and she had no right to do this. What damage had she done to him?

He had touched her in ways that she hadn’t been touched before, and not just physically. He whispered her name into her ear as he found his finish, and it was like music. She’d never felt like this before…not even with Rasler. Rasler was gentle with her, but Basch was something else – gentle, but also intensity personified. He loved her that night as if he was _in_ love with her…

Her eyes flew wide open, and she gasped. No. Oh, no. She glanced to the man that lay sleeping next to her, and quailed. What horrible disservice has she done to Basch, by allowing him to take her tonight?

Ashe reached out to touch him. She could not bring herself to. She curled her hand under her cheek. “Good night, Basch,” she whispered. She closed her eyes.

When her measured breaths signaled her descent into sleep, Basch opened his eyes, brushed her hair aside, and whispered, “Good night, Ashe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daza and Ori's tale is a small except from my first original story, slated for publication in January 2013. Hope you liked it!


	7. Shatter Me

One hour before dawn, Ashe woke to banked embers and shooting stars. She reached out to Rasler; to gather whatever warmth she could steal from his body before he roused himself. She touched Rasler’s arm, and buried her face in his chest. She inhaled his scents, and reveled in the mingled tang of woodsmoke and his own earthy, musky scent. She shimmied closer, dipped her hand low and squeezed him. He stirred slightly, and groaned in pleasure at the attention.

She smiled slightly. “Hrrm. G’morning, Ras.”

“ _What?_ ” A surprised grunt emanated from the wide-awake man next to her. “Ashe? What did you just call me?”

Ashe’s wandering hand stopped suddenly, and she froze. Her eyes flew open, and she tilted her head up to behold Basch. Lit by the dying embers of the bonfire, his eyes were wide and hurt and very, very blue. 

“Oh. Oh, Gods…I am so sorry…” She reached out to him, and he jerked out of her embrace angrily. 

“Don’t. I gave myself to you, and you called me by you dead husband’s name? What do you take me for?”

“It’s been two years since I’ve been with any man, and the last time I woke up to anyone before this was when I woke up to Rasler!” She propped herself on one palm, and ran her fingers through her hair. “This was a mistake…”

Basch sat up suddenly. “Don’t say that.”

Ashe quickly pulled on her clothes, and stood. “It was. If it wasn’t for the sick joke someone played on you, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

His mouth dropped open in shock. “You…you aren’t serious! Do you think we did this merely because we were intoxicated?”

Ashe turned her back to Basch, and the dying bonfire. “ _I_ did.”

He stood, and dressed himself jerkily. “You can’t mean that…you _don’t_ mean that!” He strode to Ashe, and spun her around. “Don’t act cold to me. You’re not cold.” 

He touched her cheek, and she momentarily turned her face into his palm before angrily whipping her head out of his embrace. “Perhaps I am. You’ve taken advantage of me.”

He winced. “I did _not!_ You wanted this, too!” He shook her slightly. “ _You wanted this too!_ ”

Ashe jerked out of his arms. “Not like this. I lied last night…you _do_ frighten me.” She backed away from Basch, and shook her head. “What we did was wrong. Never forget that.” She ran for the safety of the village. 

Basch pressed the heel of his hand to his mouth. He whispered to no one. “No. Don’t leave me!”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Next morning, the circle of friends prepared for their final confrontation. Basch crammed his belongings into his rucksack in silence. He did not come to breakfast, nor did he wish anyone a good-morning. He merely kept to himself. 

He honestly thought no one noticed his silent solitude. In truth, everyone did. Out of all his friends, one watched him go about his business that morning with great intent. With each passing minute, her frown deepened. She resolved to settle this…after all, she thought Basch to be part of her family.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Later, Basch stood, his back to the stone wall by the village’s Teleport stone, and waited for his friends to arrive. He folded his arms across his chest, and stared at his feet. He didn’t realize Penelo had been calling his name, and shook himself back to reality. He glanced at Penelo. “Morning.”

“Come with me, will you?” Penelo took his arm and turned him to the nearer of the two docks. “I want to talk to you, okay?”

He nodded wordlessly as Penelo steered him. They made their way to the dock, and Penelo touched his arm tentatively. "“Basch…are you okay?”

He narrowed his eyes at Penelo. “I’m fine. Why?”

She clasped her arms. “I’m worried about you. You aren’t acting like yourself. Did something happen to you that the rest of us should know?”

“No – nothing happened.” _…that I’m willing to share with you, child,_ he finished silently.

Penelo frowned. Evidently that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “We worry about you…we all do.” She looped her arm through his elbow, and smiled winsomely at Basch. “I don’t know what I’d do if my Uncle weren’t around.”

_“Uncle?”_ Basch laughed, even as he shuddered at the honorific. “I’m not as old as all _that_ , Penelo!”

She smiled then – and it was a sad, thoughtful smile. “Stick around for a while, okay?”

He looped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed slightly. “You can count on that, Penelo.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

When they returned to their camp, Ashe was in a tizzy over something that had gone missing. She upended her rucksack and stirred the contents. “It’s not here!”

“How in the world did you lose it, Ashe?” Balthier ran his fingers through his hair. “We needed that – and it took us an eternity to _find_ the double-cursed thing!”

Basch raised one shoulder. “What went missing?”

“My ribbon is gone! I can’t find it!” Ashe tore through the detritus from her bag. “It was here, I know it!”

“You _lost_ your ribbon?” Basch’s face darkened with angry blood. “How could you do something so stupid?”

_“Stupid?”_ Ashe bristled. “You have some nerve, Captain. Who do you think you are?”

He jerked his thumb at his own chest. “I’m the person that probably has to beat the fiends back while you go look for your god-damned ribbon.”

Ashe opened her mouth, enraged…and just as quickly shut it with a snap. She regarded Basch blandly. “You’re right, Captain. You are.”

The infuriated flush that had suffused his countenance dropped out of it at once, until his face looked like an old bed-sheet. He nodded slowly. “Fine, Highness.” 

They looked at their friends in the silence that ensued. No one would meet their eyes.

“Um, Ashe?” Vaan scratched his head. “The last time you used it was in the Henne Mines, wasn’t it? Sure you didn’t drop it there?”

She stopped. What if she _did_ leave it there? “I took it off when I changed gear. I took it out of my hair, draped it over an old crate, and…” She gasped. “Oh, no! I know where I left it. It _is_ in the Henne Mines!”

“That narrows it down, Highness. That means we travel to Jahara. Shall we depart?” Basch crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d just as soon be done with all this, and we can’t keep our friends or the _Bahamut_ waiting.”

Basch turned on his heel, towards the teleport crystal, when meaty knuckles connected with his jaw. When it did, it sent him sprawling. He looked up at Shamus, who had curled his hands into fists and stood panting over his supine body.

“Monster,” said Shamus. “How could you do such a thing to my daughter?”

Basch saw stars. He shook his head to clear it. “Do you mean Jacy? I did nothing to Jacy that she didn’t initiate.”

“On a first name-basis with her, are you?” Shamus swept his hand over Basch’s prone form. “I know what kind of girl she is, and I ain’t angry with you because of that.”

“You could have fooled me,” said Basch, as he massaged his jaw.

Shamus’s eyes flashed. “Shut up. I’m angry because she’s _gone_.” He threw a rolled parchment at Basch. “Go on, read it.”

_“What?”_ Basch struggled to his feet. He unrolled the parchment. It read:

_Da,_

_This life isn’t for me. I’m going to Archades. I promise to write and visit often. Say goodbye to Della and Basch for me._

_Love, Jacy_

“Why would she mention _you_ , friend?” Shamus jerked his chin at Basch. “What did you fill her empty little head with…stories of the fairy-tale land of Archades, where the Imperial streets are lined with gold?” 

“Certainly not! We’re at war with them, remember?” Basch ran a hand through his hair. “Your daughter is a piece of work.”

Shamus stared at his feet. “I know she is. But that doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Basch dropped his hands to his sides. “Forgive me.”

Shamus nodded. “You’re not going to look for her, are you?”

Basch blinked once, slowly, and shook his head. “No.”

Shamus fetched a deep sigh. “I figured as much. You and your friends have things to do. One girl couldn’t possibly steer you from your goals.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t fair. Sorry, friend.”

Basch touched the bruised lump on his chin. “This _is_ my fault, and I deserved it.” 

Shamus nodded once, and just as abruptly turned on his heel and left for the village. He called over his shoulder at Basch. “I’m sorry I slugged you.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Basch packed a few things in Ashe’s rucksack, and raised his eyebrows at the mad jumble of useless things in it. No wonder she lost things…her bag was like a black hole. He shoved some recuperation items in the bag, and savagely drew the strings shut. 

Damn her. She thrust him aside like so much rubbish, after everything they shared the night before. He ground his teeth. His heart felt shattered, but he still seethed. 

“Captain.”

Basch raised his head. Balthier squatted down next to him, and inclined his head. “Would you mind telling me what just happened?”

Basch shrugged noncommittally. “Shamus punched me. You were there, weren’t you?” 

“ _Tcha_. You know what I mean.” Balthier hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “You and Ashe are fighting like two old marrieds…did I miss something?”

Basch stood, and Balthier followed suit. “Balthier, nothing happened that I am willing to share with you, for Ashe’s sake. What happened between us is private.”

“It’s private until you air out your grievances in front of everyone.” Balthier moved closer to Basch, in an effort to conceal his words from the rest of the party. He grinned. “Tread softly with the princess, Captain. She is fond of you, and would be quite miffed with me if I had to kill you.”

“You jest too much.” The hell of it all was Basch _knew_ Balthier told him the truth. “All right. I will take your counsel, friend. Now, allow me to escort the Lady Ashe to Jahara. Soonest begun, soonest done.”

“Be careful,” said Balthier. “The Henne Mines is a hotbed of fiends. Please don’t make us come and save you both.”

Basch’s mouth curled. “That won’t be necessary, Balthier. We’ll see you later.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

As Basch and Ashe walked to the crystal, he stopped her with one hand on her shoulder. As she turned to him, he pressed his dagger into her hand. “Take this.”

She shook her head, nonplussed. “Why?”

“It would make me feel better if I knew you were heavily armed. I worry about your safety,” he said. “We’re going to be surrounded by the walking dead, among other things. Please…take it.”

She did, and clipped it to her belt. “Thank you.” She stared at her feet. “Basch…I…”

Basch frowned, and shook his head minutely. “Don’t.” 

After that, Ashe led them to the crystal in silence. They arrived at the transport crystal, and as Basch reached out to it, Ashe tucked her hand in his belt. Basch turned to Ashe, momentarily startled by her touch. She nodded once, and tightened her grip. “Take us there safely, Captain.”

They locked eyes. Basch’s gaze dropped first. He touched the crystal. “For you, Your Majesty…I would do anything.”


	8. Journal 2: Umbra

_Journal entry: 11 October 706 O.V._

_During all the time that I have known Ashe I have never hated her, or even disliked her. She was merely a child that hovered around my peripherals when I first joined the Order of Dalmasca. She was an annoyance at times (as children tend to be), but never did I hate the girl. I never hated Rasler, either. Quite the opposite...he was a quiet, gentle child, and I saw in him my own childhood. I watched the two grow into adulthood, and into their future nuptials._

_When Ashe turned ten, she met her future husband for the first time, as she became Rasler’s affianced the day she was born. I pinned my hopes on those two, just like everyone else. When they were wed, I celebrated as much as the rest of the populace. The couple symbolized everything we hoped for and dreamed of since time immemorial._

_When a stray arrow killed Rasler, I mourned with Nabradia and Dalmasca. I wept along with everyone else when the news of Ashe’s suicide trickled down to the Dungeons. I grieved for you, Ashe. And when I first saw you again, after we were captured, I was transported when I found you still alive. And you’ve transported me every moment of every day since then, Ashe._

_This morning we shared each other’s bodies, and I gave my heart to you. You spurned me. I don’t know how it happened, or when, but hate has stolen into my heart._

_I never hated you before, Ashe…but I do now._


	9. White Knight, Red Queen

In Jahara, Gurdy waved at the two adventurers that approached her chocobo pen. “Hello, friends, _kupo!_ Need a chocobo?”

“Yes, please,” said Ashe.

Basch glanced at the chocobo pen, and rolled his eyes. Wretched things…since the takeover of Nabradia, he hated chocobos with a passion. They were filthy, stinking creatures; their stench outclassed only by their rotten dispositions.

One chocobo strolled to the fence of the pen. She was the biggest damned bird Basch had ever seen. The chocobo, already tacked and harnessed, had an oversized saddle and could easily accommodate two. That, of course, was out of the question – Basch did not intend to ride _anywhere_ in close proximity to Ashe.

The chocobo tilted its head at Basch. “ _Kweh_ ,” it whistled.

“Go away,” he muttered.

The bird whistled at Basch again, and extended its neck to get closer to him. Basch tried to push its head back into its pen, but all that seemed to do was convince the chocobo that he wanted to play. The chocobo grabbed Basch’s arm in its beak and began worrying it, like a terrier with a rat in its jaws.

After a few moments of _that_ nonsense, Basch yanked his arm out of the chocobo’s maw and lost whatever composure he had left. “ _PISS OFF!”_

“ _WARK_!” said the chocobo, and swung its beak at Basch’s head. It connected with a hollow _thok!_ and Basch went sprawling.

Gurdy twittered merrily. “ _Kupo-po_! She likes you, good Sir! You should take this chocobo. Her name is Jenny. It’s best to ride chocobos that are fond of you, and I see she chose you, _kupo_!”

“I can’t argue with a lady’s decision, can I?” Basch stood, his hand massaging the lump that formed on the back of his head.

As they led Jenny away from the chocobo stable, Ashe glared at Basch. “What ails you? You’ve been acting strange for weeks, last night notwithstanding.”

“No stranger than normal, Milady,” said Basch, bristling. “And as far as I’m concerned, if I acted strangely last night, you acted as mad as a hatter.”

Ashe’s eyebrows knit. “I _must_ have been mad. If it weren’t for the ambrosia, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”

That _hurt_. “Truly, now? Whatever happened to you yesterday? What happened to the Ashe that screamed my name, hmm?” Basch sneered slightly as he spoke through clenched teeth. “You seemed to be considering it plenty, last night.”

Ashe turned her head to Basch. She appraised him silently, coldly, before she slapped him. In the silence, it sounded like a pistol shot. His head rocked back on his shoulder. Ashe puffed up, ready for another argument. She didn’t get one. When Basch turned his head to regard her, her heart twisted at the expression of bone-deep pain in his eyes.

“I deserved that,” Basch said, as he approached their ride. He laced his fingers together, and made a stirrup with his hands. He lowered himself next to Jenny the Chocobo, and addressed Ashe without meeting her eyes. “Milady, your chariot awaits.”

She mounted the chocobo, and Basch followed suit. They rode most of the way to the Henne Mines in silence.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Perhaps one-quarter hour before they arrived, Ashe spoke to the saddle’s pommel. “You must understand something, Basch. What we did last night was terribly wrong.”

He sighed. Her handprint still stood out on his face like a livid tattoo. “I understand, far more than you realize.”\

Ashe glanced over her shoulder. Basch’s expression was ambiguous. She faced forward uncomfortably. “I know you aren’t a dolt, Basch. I need to repeat the obvious to think.”

“Yes, Highness,” said Basch.

Ashe fumed. “You are being far too amenable, Captain. Will you sit there and rage in silence?”

His hands tightened on Jenny’s reins. “No. I am naught but your servant, Majesty. I will sit and listen to any amount of chatter.”

She nodded absently. “I know you would, Basch. You are as constant as the wind.” She turned to him again. “You know me now, like only one other had. I know _you_ the same way. I can’t help but feel…close to you, even though what we did was wrong.”

He didn’t answer; verily, he didn’t have to. To grasp Jenny’s reins, he had to wrap his arms around Ashe. Now, they tightened minutely around her middle. He buried his face in the nape of her hair. She shivered, and leaned into his ministrations before remembering herself. She shook free of his embrace.

Basch cupped her chin with his hand and nuzzled her cheek. “Please don’t push me away, Ashe.”

Ashe jerked her chin free. “You’re my _friend_ , Basch! You’re ruining that!”

He dropped the reins, and Jenny obediently stopped. He regarded her flatly for many moments before dismounting. He seized Jenny’s reins, and walked beside the gigantic chocobo.

Ashe held her hand out to Basch. “Are you insane? The fiends will eat you alive!”

He ignored her reaching hand as he stared straight ahead. “It is improper for me to ride together with you. I will brave the fiends. Besides, we are nearly there. And Ashelia?”

She blinked when he used her full name. He rarely did. “Yes?”

Basch looked over his shoulder at Ashe, while Jenny yanked on his hair playfully. “You are right, as always. And here we are.” He nodded to the mine entrance. “Let’s get this over with.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

After depositing Jenny outside the mine entrance, Basch looked at Ashe colorlessly. “Hurry. I don’t want to stay here over-long. It is only you and I here, and I’d like to get out alive.”

They traversed the mines quickly. Ashe combed every dank corner, looked in every moldy crate and crumbling chest. She came up empty handed each time she thought she recognized some decaying landmark.

Basch became more agitated with each failure. Finally, he rolled his eyes and said, “Perhaps you didn’t lose it here…?”

“Wait!” Ashe dropped to her knees, and jumped to her feet with the ribbon clutched in her fist. “Found it…finally!” Ashe held the ribbon over her head in a victorious gesture. Basch merely nodded – they had to get out of here, and quick.

“Lady Ashe, we need to leave at once. I…have a bad feeling about the mines today.”

Ashe looked over her shoulder, and prepared to make a snide reply, when she felt it too. She frowned into the semi-darkness as she lifted her lantern. “Yes. You’re right, Basch. We have to get back to the entrance. Now.”

Basch nodded curtly. He turned his body towards the way they came in, and stopped. The next room held something that wasn’t there before. Something roamed the gloom, and he wasn’t going to go in unprepared. He looked down to unfasten the safety strap on his blade, and looked up to Ashe’s screams…and came face to face with a zombie. It hissed at him as it swung one chitinous talon at his head. He ducked under its claw and stumbled back into a wall.

“Galtea save us!” Ashe breathed. “What is that monstrosity?”

“Whatever it is, it’s fast,” said Basch. He unsheathed his sword. “ _En garde_ , Ashe!”

The ghoul turned its eyes from Ashe, and regarded Basch with unflinching concentration. “ _Join Disma…”_

 _Gods above,_ thought Basch, _this is_ Disma _? The bogey that parents have used since time immemorial to scare their children? If this is Disma, we are done…_

Ashe gasped. She drew her sword, and promptly dropped it. She covered her mouth with her hands. The undead apparition turned back to Ashe slowly, as a gruesome smirk widened its nearly non-existent lips. It advanced on Ashe, which gave Basch the perfect opportunity to slash at it from behind.

His sword cut through rotted sinew and crumbling bone, and let loose some horrible, steaming ichor. Disma screeched, turned its unspeakable body to him, and threw its hands in the air. Before Basch could react, his entire body lifted from the ground, caught in a cloud of darkness. He screamed miserably until Disma freed him from the choking, evil blast. He crumpled to the ground. His eyes met Ashe’s, and she saw in his eyes that their end had come.

Basch tried to tell her to get herself gone but could not speak.

“Ashe… _run_ …” he mouthed.

Disma advanced again on Ashe while Basch slowly struggled to his feet. He finally found his voice, and bellowed as he raised his sword to cleave Disma’s head in two. Disma turned its head to Basch. Ashe took that opportunity to swing their lantern; she smashed it over Disma’s head.

The result was an angry, powerful ghoul covered in lamp oil…and now they were in the dark with it. Ashe drew her dagger (something that Basch insisted she pack for this trek), and Disma slapped the weapon out of her hands with strength usually reserved for the living.

Disma turned to Basch and latched its teeth into his shoulder. Basch howled and flipped his sword around. He tried to beat Disma off his body with his sword’s hilt, and managed to break some of its teeth enough to push it off without too much of his own body still in its mouth. Basch staggered back until his rear bumped the wall. He clamped his free hand over the bite wound and shuddered wretchedly.

Ashe reached for him. “Basch! What is it?”

He waved her away. “Stay clear of its teeth, Ashe! Its bite is poisonous!”

Disma again turned its back on Basch. He clenched the sword, ready to rush the fiend, before he realized that Disma had Ashe’s dagger clamped in one chitinous, wizened hand. He dropped his sword and ran for Ashe.

“Watch out!” He placed himself between Ashe and Disma. Disma struck with hellish accuracy and punctured Basch’s chest with Ashe’s dagger. The blade made a dreadful crunching noise as it pierced sinew and flesh. Basch felt his heart quiver on the point of the blade before Disma twisted the dagger cruelly.

Basch grunted with pain and surprise, and his eyes rolled down to gaze at the wound. Blood pulsed out from around the blade. He looked up at Disma as he began to choke on his own blood. Disma’s mouth parted further to show its broken teeth, and an inhuman chuckling emanated from its own chest. “ _Now you join me…in death…”_ it said.

“Ashe…lamp oil…” Basch wheezed. He dropped to his knees, and fell face-first. He propped himself on his knuckles. “Set Disma…afire…then _run_!” He fell forward again.

Ashe looked at Disma, and stepped away from Basch’s prone body. She lured Disma after her while she closed her eyes, concentrated deeply, and touched the Arcane.

“ _BURN!_ ” she screamed, and a gout of fire erupted from her outstretched hands.

Disma screeched as the magickal flame engulfed its body. It spun madly, shrieked, and bolted down the narrow pathway. When it was gone, Ashe ran for Basch and turned him face-up. He was alive, but barely so.

“Basch…don’t move,” she said, as she reached for the Arcane once more – when suddenly Disma came careening back into the open space, still on fire. It fell to the floor, and screamed its agony.

Oh, the shrieks would not stop! Ashe tried to concentrate, but found she could not.

Basch’s eyes struggled open. “Ashe? What…is it?”

Ashe gathered Basch’s body close to her own and his blood soaked her white jacket a sinister crimson. She began to sob. _“I can’t concentrate! I can’t_ think _! OH GODS, I CAN’T_ HEAL _YOU!”_

He nodded absently. “I…packed Down in your rucksack. You can use it, just…let me…die…” Basch shut his eyes. She was right. It was hard to concentrate on _anything_ while Disma yowled. He choked again, and twin rills of blood escaped both corners of his mouth. “After I die, pull the knife from my chest, and…use the Phoenix…Down on me.”

“I will _not_ let you die!” She hiccupped deep in her chest. “I’ll just try to heal you again. I just need to concentrate…”

“Just…do what I asked…Lady Ashe. You must…must…” He closed his eyes in concentration as he tried to think of the next words. He died doing so.

“Basch?” He did not answer.

Ashe touched his face. She bowed her head over his inert form, and then grasped the hilt of the dagger. She wrenched it free, and blood stippled her face.

Screaming herself, she dropped the knife at her feet. She grabbed Basch’s sword, and screeching incoherently, buried the sword to the hilt in Disma’s head. It pinned the charring fiend to the mine floor. Ashe stood over the zombie, panted harshly, and then clamped her hands over her ears – Disma shrieked on interminably.

She ran for her rucksack and dumped it in a frantic search for Phoenix Down. There, under the various useless items stuffed in the bag was the Phoenix Down. She grabbed the chamois bag it was in and emptied some on Basch.

He cracked his eyes open – then suddenly bent his body into a bow as horrid pain washed over him. He screamed pitiably, in hellish counterpoint to Disma’s death throes. He grabbed his chest, as he began to bleed again. “It hurts! Ah Gods, it _hurts!_ ”

Ashe looked at the pile of bottles and phials that had come from her rucksack. Why in the world did she pack so much useless stuff? Wait…here, that would do the trick. She pulled an ornate, blue-tinted glass phial from the wreckage of the sack. She broke it open over Basch’s body, and poured it on his chest.

His labored breathing eased a bit. He glanced at Ashe, fleetingly. “Ye gods,” he said, as he licked his lips.

Ashe pulled Basch into a sitting position. Ashe touched his chest gingerly. “Can you go on?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I need to rest a bit first.”

They sat in silence; arms wrapped around one another, and watched Disma die. Its body flopped about, but did not put out the magickal fire. It screeched and writhed for the better part of a quarter-hour before it finally stilled.

“Done,” said Basch. “That’s…”

Disma’s remains flared white-hot. Its carcass vanished in a blaze of light, and all that remained when the glare subsided was its gold headband and a charred, ornate corset. They sat and stared at it.

She sobbed deep in her chest. “That was…a _woman_?”

Basch’s arms tightened on Ashe’s shoulders. He nodded, and gestured to the headband. “A Trophy.”

Ashe shivered in Basch’s arms. “That… _thing_...was part of the Rare Game Hunt?”

Basch nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Ashe sobbed even harder. “That – that thing could have _killed_ us!” Basch sat stoically as she got her hoarse, braying sobs under control. When she did, she looked at Basch. His head rocked back on his neck and lay against the oozing rock wall. His breathing was slow and measured, but his heartbeat was still irregular and much too fast. He grunted once, and his eyes widened. His body twitched spasmodically as the poison traveled through his system. He grabbed his chest and shivered uncontrollably, as pain drew his mouth into a trembling rictus.

Ashe touched his chest. “Be still, now. I can heal you.” She closed her eyes, concentrated, and Basch suddenly felt worlds better. He closed his eyes and muttered ‘thank-you’ to Ashe. He prodded the bite wound. The bite healed when Ashe worked her magick, but it was still tender. He pressed his lips together. He looked at Ashe, and then quickly looked away. Best not to entangle himself all over again.

“We have to go, Ashe. Can you help me stand?”

“Yes,” she said doubtfully. If it were any of her other friends, they would’ve wanted to sit and rest a bit more, perhaps even accept a hug or a few comforting words. She expected it from Basch…but he would not accept comfort from her for one second longer.

Hurt and confused, she helped Basch to his feet. _I’ve wronged him,_ she thought to herself, _and he still seethes over my wrongdoing. I must leave him be! Let him attend this hurt on his own. I will do more harm if I interfere with this kind of mending._

She had no idea that if she healed the breach between them right then; perhaps his descent into the abyss would have ended there. She had no clue to his true torment.


	10. Journal 3: Abyss

_13 November 706 O.V._

_We’ve done it. We’ve won the day. Vayne Solidor has fallen. Peace spread across the land. People have begun to rebuild their lives. I don’t think I can do the same._

_I think back on everything that has transpired these past few months, and I shudder. The countless lives lost; the constant battling; the rivers of blood we waded through - I must ask myself, was it worth it?_

_When Noah died, I died a bit, too. He was my only link to a lost, forgotten land. He was the last of my family. I have nothing here that ties me to the mortal coil._

_I’ve given my word that I would watch over Larsa. I will not renege on that for the world, but once he is strong enough to stand on his own, I will do what I must to wipe this world clean of my presence. I’ve pondered how I would do it, and I am morbidly aware of the Bahamut in Dalmasca._

_How fitting would it be, if I hurled myself from the top of it, to smash my bones to powder on the rocks below? Would it be fitting if I were to drown myself like a stinking cur at the base of the derelict ship? What damage would I do to Ashe if I took my own life in her beloved Rabanastre? Enough, I’d wager. Would she remember, for the rest of her miserable life, that I killed myself because of her?_

_I want to be done with this, but I cannot properly finish this. I cannot._

_Oh, I am such a coward._


	11. Far From Home

_Journal entry: 5 September 707, O.V._

_I am here in Archades, and it has become my home. Lord Larsa is a kind and just ruler, and a just master, as well. He allows me my freedom from time to time. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to poke fun at Larsa, and it is a poor jest, I know…but it’s a start, wot?_

_That is a sure sign that I’m beginning to become whole again. I’m finding little pieces of my old self, buried like relics in the Sandsea. It’s a wonderful, cathartic feeling; something like being reborn. I’ve begun to make new friends. I’ve begun to piece my life back together. Yet, something is still missing from my life._

_Ashe’s coronation was last week. I did not attend it. Zargabaath went in my stead, and it offended the Queen deeply. She sent word to the Imperial City that she was quite vexed with me. I could read between the lines. She was deeply hurt by my absence. Well, too bad. It has taken me a year just to heal from her touch – it burns in me even now._

_I have to worry about myself, now. I cannot bog myself in the pits of despair because I cannot have the one woman who holds my heart. I have come to terms with that. That knowledge hurts, but I will go on._

_One day, I will be able to look the Queen in the eye and say hello, without my desire to have her or my desire to kill her getting in the way. One day I can resume our friendship. It will happen, but not now. Ashe needs to understand my desire for solitude from her presence. She’s a grown woman. She’ll understand._

-=-=-=-=-=-

Two years passed since the fall of Arcadia, two years that Basch stayed away from the Royal City of Rabanastre. He took those two years to heal. And still, after two years, he still harbored a shard of loathing in his heart for Ashe. It was a tiny shard, sure, but it was still there, festering. He knew only time would excise the shard from his heart, but the waiting game was that which rankled the most.

He _did_ miss her. He missed her touch, but mostly he missed her company. He missed the friendship they had…that he had with all his old friends. He kept up a steady communication with them all, save Ashe, but it didn’t make up for the true togetherness they once shared.

The only two he saw somewhat regularly were Penelo and Vaan. They came to visit the Imperial City every few months since they acquired their own airship. They came to see Larsa, mostly, but as Basch was a regular sight in the Imperial compound (disguised as Gabranth, of course), he got to sit for a spell and talk with them from time to time.

He spoke with Penelo the day Ashe summoned him.

After she visited with Larsa, she knocked on Basch’s door. When he answered, he favored Penelo with a sunny smile, and gave her a hug. “Gods. You become more and more grown-up every time I see you.”

“A bit,” she replied. “You look well.”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m getting there.”

“Really?” She found his ottoman, and sat herself. She smiled sadly. “I miss you…we all do. Why do you have to stay away?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you why I have to…”

“Because of Ashe, right?” Penelo shifted uncomfortably. “She misses you very much. I wasn’t lying when I told Larsa that, before the coronation.”

He glanced at Penelo sharply. She was a clever one. “You say that with such conviction. As far as I can remember, your exact words were ‘She’ll never admit it, but I _think_ she misses him’. That’s a far cry from Ashe missing me very much.” Basch raised one eyebrow. “And stop asking me why I cannot see her…I don’t think I can tell you why.”

Penelo spread her hands. “I’m a ‘grown-up’, Basch…try me.”

Basch looked at her sidelong for many moments, and sighed. “All right. She and I…shared a night together, before we attacked the _Bahamut_.” He glanced at Penelo and just as quickly dropped his gaze to his feet, humiliated. “It went poorly.”

She snorted. “So that’s why you two were fighting like an old married couple that morning?”

He smiled despite himself. “Yes.” He sobered. “But there is more.”

She frowned. “There’s more?”

He nodded, and spoke to his hands. “I’ve wanted to be close to her since we escaped the _Leviathan_ , but I also had my duties to her, as her vassal and her Knight. My emotions have warred with one another since her liberation.” He glanced at Penelo, and regarded her frankly. “I am in love with Ashe. She is not in love with me. I needed to keep myself from her to keep her safe from my treachery.”

Penelo’s eyebrows knit together. “How so? You’ve been nothing but chivalrous to her.”

“It is my duty to be her chivalrous Knight…but I know her now, like only one other had.”

Penelo scratched her cheek, and crimsoned. “I understand _that_ , Basch, but why would you want to hurt her?”

Basch continued to gaze upon Penelo with frankness that made her fidget. “It was madness, Penelo. Before we gave ourselves to each other, I wanted Ashe with every fiber of my being. I was obsessed with her. When my obsession warred with my fealty, it…twisted me, somehow. I lost whom I was in this roiling madness that took over me.

“After the night at the bonfire, my mind saw Ashe in two different ways - as my Queen, and as my lover. We may have only shared one glorious night together, but it was everything to me. Because she had no control of her actions when Jacy drugged us, I could not hold her to what she and I had done. It made an already ugly situation worse, and I sank deeper into the pit I had fashioned for myself.”

Penelo rolled her eyes outrageously. “So it _was_ that little harlot Jacy that drugged you.”

He smiled without warmth. “So it seemed. There is no one else who could have been so catty…so petty.”

Penelo gazed at Basch. “Do you really think Ashe doesn’t love you?”

He compressed his lips to a thin line, and stared at his hands. His eyebrows quirked minutely. “I know that she loves all her friends. It wasn’t the kind of love I wanted from her.”

She fiddled with her braids. “Did you even ask her how she feels?”

“No.” Basch’s countenance became a thundercloud. “Why? Did you see something in her that even I could not?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Basch! I’m not blind!” Penelo rose from the ottoman, and stomped over to where he stood. She planted her hands on her hips, and pursed her mouth. “Honestly! I’m not trying to be a busybody…”

He crossed his arms, and sneered. “Really, now?”

She swatted his shoulder. “Cut that out! She cares for you more than you realize. When you didn’t show up for her coronation, you hurt her.”

Angry blood crashed into his face. “I was _not_ going to put her in any danger, not on the day of her coronation!”

Penelo threw her hands in the air, miffed. “What about your fealty to Ashe?”

Basch’s eyes flashed dangerously. “To _hell_ with my fealty!” He brushed past Penelo, and sat heavily on the ottoman. He ran his hand through his short hair. “I am healing, Penelo. I cannot throw myself into the pit willingly.” He cradled his temple in one palm.

Penelo approached him, and touched the back of his neck. “I know. I don’t want you to do that, either.”

He sighed, a watery, lost sound. “She swims in my blood, Penelo…even to this day, Ashe continues to haunt me.”

“I know,” she repeated. He looked at her sharply, and she nodded. “Vaan has something for you, from Ashe.”

Basch tilted his head at her. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It looks official.”

It is,” said a voice from the doorway. Vaan held a parchment roll. He handed it to Basch. “If you like, we can leave you alone with it.”

Basch turned the roll over in his hands, and touched the wax seal. It had been stamped with Ashe’s royal crest. “Maybe that’s best.”

Penelo touched his arm. “We’ll see you soon?”

He locked eyes with the young woman, and nodded decisively. “You can count on that.”

Penelo held her arms out, and Basch stepped into the circle of her arms. She held him tightly for a moment, before she released him. She smiled sweetly, waggled her fingers at him, and left.

Basch steeled himself. He popped the seal to the summons…he was sure it was a royal summons. He unrolled the parchment.

_Her Royal Highness Ashelia B’Nargin Dalmasca doth hereby order Lord Gabranth, Judge High Magister, to Her court. He is to report to Her Royal Highness immediately following receipt of this Royal Summons._

So cold. She was so cold. He could have chalked the frigidity of the summons up to some bored scribe as he wrote an ordered form letter, but Basch knew better. The summons was in Ashe’s handwriting.

He chuckled mirthlessly, despite himself. Ashe wanted to see him that badly, did she? She was a stubborn one, she was. He re-rolled the parchment. Fine. He would go to Rabanastre, as she had bid.

Gods help him.

-=-=-=-=-=-

When his head was a-swim with his thoughts, he usually prowled Old Archades. The people who lived there made Basch feel a little better about himself. He shuddered. That was a cruel way to think, but it was also the truth.

He never went down to the Old Township in the guise of Gabranth. That would damn him for all eternity. Nor did he go to Old Archades as Basch, either. He was supposed to be dead, and dead he would remain. No, he went to Old Archades as an anonymous face. No one looked twice at him…he was cipher. No one recognized him as the days wound into weeks and months and years. He was just another lost soul traveling the skin of Ivalice.

The day he received his summon, he descended into Old Archades again. He walked to clear his head. He passed ghosts – the specters of what were once people, as they floated about their business. He passed paupers, and swindlers, and prostitutes. He gave those women a wide berth. They called to him of course – wasn’t it their job to draw men in with their wiles?

Today, as he wandered through a different part of town, a new feminine voice called to him. He glanced over his shoulder at the voice, his face set in stone. His countenance fractured when he saw just who called out to him. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened with a mixture of disgust and pity. Gods. _All things come full circle, don’t they?_ he thought to himself.

“Well, now! I haven’t seen you in a while! How about some sport, Noah?” The woman of the night simpered at Basch, and held her hands out invitingly. She smiled winsomely, and there were gaps in her teeth. Her red hair had dulled to a washed out no-color. Her body had lost its suppleness, and her forbidden flesh hung in sags and rolls.

She raised her tweezed eyebrows when he did not answer. “You’re not Noah. Well, cat got your tongue, laddie? _Hunh_ ,” she said, “another mute. Ah, well. Gil is Gil, no matter where it comes from…so what do you think? Nod once if you’re interested…”

Basch shook his head, his eyes filled with pity. “Jacy.”

Her own eyes widened. “Who are you?” She scanned his face, and her hands stole to her mouth. “My God. Oh, my God.”

Basch kept his distance, as if she carried plague. “Jacy. What happened to you?”

She shook off the momentary shock, and shrugged charmingly. “A girl’s gotta make a living. You know how it is.”

He shook his head again. “When did you get so jaded?”

Her countenance hardened. “When I came to Archades and found out that I had no other choice but to do this. I expected you to understand, Basch…”

He glanced around, and curtly cut her off. “He is dead. I am no longer he.”

Jacy crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “So I guess we both have secrets then…don’t we, Blondie?”

He tilted his head quizzically. “What do you mean?”

She uncrossed her arms, and sat on an outcropping. “I’ve spoken with…someone. Someone who knew you well, here in Archades. Someone who you are impersonating, I do believe.” She glanced at Basch, and favored him with a genuine smile. “Noah was one of my clients. You look quite a bit like him…your brother, perhaps?”

He sat himself next to Jacy. “Yes. He was my brother.”

“Was?” She sighed. “I am sorry to hear that. He was a kind man, and a good client, too,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “He spoke about you once or twice. I never put two and two together.”

Basch glanced sidelong at her. “Did he tell you what he was?”

“What…that he was Judge Magister Gabranth?” She shrugged. “He didn’t have to. I lived in Archades when I first arrived. I worked as an escort before I found my way down here. I’ve seen him at functions and cotillions before, and without that god-awful helmet he wore, too. He eventually confessed it to me, when I asked him about it.”

“It was his last wish, that I take his place after his death.” Basch pulled a deep sigh. “Now I am Gabranth.”

She inclined her head. “Then you are as noble as I thought you were when I last saw you.”

He chuckled. “No. I’m not noble. I’m just a man.” He caught her eyes with his. “Noah gave you his birth name?”

She smiled to herself. “He remained friendly with me, even after he found someone else to go to. Every once in a while he would come down and visit me. He told me he came to visit because of my high teas.” She palpated her double chin. “It seems they _are_ good, as I’ve had one too many of them myself since then.”

“Can you keep this secret for me, Jacy?” He looked at the cobbled street.

“Of course. For your sake, I will.” She fetched another deep sigh. “So how’s your friend Sandy?”

He raised one shoulder as a small, quizzical smile creased his face. “Who?”

“Oh, you know…the one who ate your food that night. Ashe, was it? That surely queered the pitch when she got the ambrosia, too.”

Full circle, indeed. “I’m going to see her in Rabanastre tonight.” He gave her a withering glance. “I’ll bring your regards.”

Jacy snorted laughter. “Oh, that’ll go over well, I’m sure.” She looked up at the westerning sun. “Well. The evening rush will start soon. Go and do what you have to do, and maybe I’ll see you again, hmm?”

He slid from the outcropping, and held his hands out to her. Smiling, she slipped down and took his hands. He opened her palms and deposited something in them. He closed her fingers over whatever he put there. She glanced at him invitingly. “Changed your mind, Blondie?”

A tiny, sad smile played about the corners of his mouth. He stepped away from her, backpedaling down the avenue. “You don’t belong here. Go home.” Basch turned his back on Jacy, and she watched him go.

When Basch was out of sight, she glanced down at her hands, and opened her fingers. One hand held a small orange gem and a handful of gold Gil, and in her other hand was Basch’s sandalwood chop. She looked at these priceless objects for a long time. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. She addressed the empty alleyway. “Yeah. I guess it _is_ time to go home.”


	12. Journal 4: Ascent

_Journal entry: 06 July 709 O.V._

_You’ve called for me, Highness, and I must obey my Queen’s command. I can only hope I am strong enough to face you. I must be strong enough. My love is as constant as the wind, but I am no longer willing to hurt myself – or hurt you – any longer. With that in mind, I go to Rabanastre with a steady, albeit heavy, heart._

_I am worried about one thing, however. I am slowly becoming well, but I am afraid that if I see you again, I will fall into the abyss once more. You have that effect on me, Ashe. With that in mind, I must tell you that I can never see you again. It will destroy me, but I must do it to maintain what sanity I have been able to recover._

_Tomorrow, the Prince Regent Larsa and I will arrive in Rabanastre. I will see you, and I will tell you goodbye._

_Gods give me strength._

-=-=-=-=-=-

_Journal entry: 06 July 709 O.V._

_Diary, I wait excitedly for Basch and Larsa’s arrival from Archades. I haven’t seen Basch in over two years, and I am happy he finally decided to come home, at least to visit. All it took was a royal summoning to get him back here!_

_I am distressed, though. I have something to tell him, and I’ve wanted to tell him for some time, now, since my own coronation. It gnaws at me: what if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? I fear that my own feelings are for naught, that I waited too long to summon him home. I am afraid that I’ve lost him forever._


	13. Shatter Me Once Again

Ashe looked up from her diary when a heavy hand rapped on her door. “Come.”

The door opened, and Basch stepped over the threshold. His hair was clipped short, and his brother’s helmet was tucked under his arm. Ashe still couldn’t believe it was Basch under the Judge Magister’s darkly burnished armor. Ashe smiled sweetly. “Welcome back, Basch.”

Basch bowed his head slightly. “What is your bidding, Highness?”

_What?_ Ashe’s mouth pursed angrily. “I have a name. Use it, Basch.”

He brought his eyes up to hers and then dropped his gaze to his feet. His face was set in stone. “No.”

She shook her head bemusedly. “Why?”

“Because you are my Queen. I will obey your orders, but I will not be your friend. I _cannot_ be your friend.”

She rose from her sitting room chair and crossed the room to where her Captain stood. Ashe looked up into his stony face, confused and hurt. “Why is that?”

He tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. It would not budge. “Because, Highness, I cannot be near you. I based my life on protecting you and your homeland. It became something different, something sinister when I found that I loved you. I based my life on that twisted love.” He clenched his teeth. “Now I see that my life was a lie.”

Ashe’s jaw hung stupidly, and Basch pushed on. “I wanted you two years ago, and I didn’t want anything more strongly in my life. I watched you, and waited for you, and when the opportunity presented itself, I shared myself with you.” His face twisted in misery. “And for what? You broke my heart. You pushed me away. I gave up _everything_ that I wanted out of life, because of you!”

He began to pace Ashe’s sitting room. “The hope of marriage – _gone!_ The chance, at my age, to have little ones of my own – _done!_ My own home will never _be_ because I gave myself – my _life –_ to _you_!

“Now you decide you want me, after I had given up all hope of you and I ever sharing our lives together. You want me now, after I gave up my desires and dreams and gave myself fully to my brother’s final request.” He swept his arm before Ashe mockingly. “Now Her Royal Highness calls for me… _now_ , after I have purged you from my heart!”

During this harangue, Ashe had stuffed her knuckles between her teeth to stay her cries of dispute…and horror. After Basch finally quieted, she dropped her hands at her sides. “Do you really think that’s how I feel? That I would use you and toss you aside like so much rubbish? Do you think so little of me? You _dare_ to think I would treat you so?”

Basch dropped his gaze again, and steeled himself for the inevitable slap. When it didn’t come, he locked gazes with her tentatively. Tears stood in her remarkable eyes. She reached out with one perfectly manicured hand and slid her palm across Basch’s cheek. He closed his eyes and shuddered at her touch. He turned his face in her hand, and kissed her palm where it met her wrist. He took her arm with infinite gentleness.

He spun her away.

Ashe was propelled, sprawling, into her chair. She spluttered, “Basch! Why do you do this?”

He closed his hands into trembling fists at his sides and bared his teeth at Ashe. He squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his countenance away. “ _STOP TORTURING ME!_ ”

“Torture?” Ashe stared at him. “I’m trying to reach out to you!” She turned from him, completely perplexed, her arms crossed pensively. She sat at her writing table, and propped her chin in her hand. “Perhaps I can understand how you feel.”

Basch snorted derisively. “How _could_ you know how I feel?”

Ashe shrugged. “Rasler and I – we _did_ love each other, but I believe now that I loved him far more than he loved me.” She raised her countenance to Basch’s. “So it was with you and I.”

His bitter laughter was full of pain. “ _Was_? My love for you will never die. And _you_ loved me…? Don’t make me laugh.”

She gasped harshly. Now the tears fell – great, pained tears that burned her cold, ashen cheeks. “How could you _say_ that?” She was up in a flash. Ashe slapped Basch, slapped him hard _._ “ _How could you_ say _that_? I gave myself to you willingly! I realize now that I found joy in your arms the night of the story-circle!”

Panting, Basch closed his eyes to stay his humiliation. When he opened them, he grabbed her upper arms and shook her slightly. “That one moment of glory was enough to last the rest of my life.” He released Ashe, and made his way to her chamber door. “It has to be, for it will be the last moment of glory you and I will ever share.”

Ashe’s hands flew to her mouth. “No, Basch! You can’t leave!”

His hand froze on the doorknob. “I have to.”

Ashe walked around him, and pressed her body to his. She wrapped her arms around his back, and he lifted his traitorous hands to clasp her body to his. The want – the horrible, greedy _want –_ was back. He was powerless to stop it.

Ashe whispered into the hollow at the base of his throat, and it sent delicious shivers throughout his body. “I am Queen of Dalmasca. I can keep whatever company I desire, bed whomever I want, marry whomever I wish. Stay here tonight, Captain.”

The urgency Basch felt made him want to make Ashe scream his name to the black of night all over again. His breath coarsened, and he wove his fingers into her hair…but what he wanted this night from his Queen he could never have again. After an eternity of agonizing, he reached down, disengaged her arms, and opened the chamber door.

He stepped through the doorway, and his throat tightened. Oh, he loved her with every fiber of his being, but…he could not live with the misery any longer. Basch gazed over his shoulder at Ashe, the pain writ boldly on his face. He looked upon her one last time.

“Basch, you wanted this too!” Ashe sobbed. “The night at the bonfire…you wanted this, but it was too soon, then! _It was too soon!_ ”

He shook his head sorrowfully. “Now it’s too late,” he whispered. “Galtea damn me to Hell!” He walked out of her chamber, and rounded the corner…and Ashe’s voice followed to torment him for all eternity:

“ _NOOOO! DON’T LEAVE MEEEE!_ ”


	14. Hold My Heart

Basch stormed down the hall, and his heart twisted in his chest. What in the nine Hells was he doing? He gave up the only chance he had to hold Ashe one more time. What was _wrong_ with him?

He cleared his throat but could not loosen the knot that had formed there. He made it to his chambers without fully humiliating himself, but once the door was firmly shut behind him; he lost whatever control he had.

He looked down at his helmet – a symbol of what Gabranth had once been, a monster. And now Basch wore it. _Monstrous…I’ve become monstrous,_ he thought. He shut his eyes convulsively. A hoarse shout, full of pain, erupted from his chest as he hurled the helmet across the room. It hit an ornate mirror on the opposite side of the room. The mirror detonated, sending slivers of silvered glass every which way while Gabranth’s helmet crashed through the frame and made a hollow _BONG_ as it hit the wall behind it.

He looked at the carnage he caused, and crashed to his knees. He buried his head in his gauntleted hands, and screamed in anguish. He took another breath, and thought twice before bellowing again. Best to suffer in silence than wake up half the castle. He thumped down into a sitting position and dropped his forehead on one cocked knee.

There was a light rap on his door. He addressed the kind-hearted soul on the opposite side of the door harshly. “Leave me _be_!”

“Open this door at once!” Larsa. It was Larsa commanding him in his little boy I-want-my-way voice, on the other side of the door.

Basch sighed deeply. “Lord Larsa, please leave me in peace. Leave me alone.”

“No,” said a voice from directly behind him. Basch jumped to his feet. His hand touched his sword hilt before he realized Larsa stood with his back to the door, his arms crossed over his skinny chest. “I need to speak to you. I don’t like it when my orders are ignored." 

Basch blinked once. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

Larsa shrugged smugly. “Vaan taught me how to pick locks. We were bored one day, and I am an exceptional student.” He had a broom and dustpan in his hands, which he handed to Basch. He took it silently.

“So it seems.” Basch’s hair had tumbled over his forehead, and now he pushed it out of his face. “This is a private matter, Lord Larsa. I don’t expect you to understand it.”

Larsa pouted, as he mocked Basch in a gravelly squeak. “Yes, yes – ‘Lord Larsa is just a boy…he could never understand things as complicated as love!’ Honestly, now!”

Basch crossed his arms as he turned his body away. “No one knew about that. What makes you different?”

“You’re as subtle as a ten pound sledge. Now clean that mess, Judge Magister, and we’ll discuss this.” Together, they cleared the floor of glass and wood fragments. When it was done, Larsa sat in an ornate gold-gilt writing desk chair. “If you think that you have kept this secret from your friends, you are sorely mistaken. We know how you feel about Lady Ashe.”

Basch scowled. “Is His Majesty speaking in the royal plural?”

“ _Tcha_. Stop being obstinate. You need to work this out, for good or ill…I will stay in Dalmasca until you do.”

Basch stared incredulously at the little Emperor in waiting. “I will _not_ stay in Rabanastre for another _moment_! We leave tomorrow.”

Larsa’s eyebrows vaulted to his forehead. “Are you challenging my orders?”

He hung his head and took a deep breath. “No, Majesty. I will do what is ordered of me.”

Frustrated, Larsa threw his hands in the air. “That’s not my point! I’m trying to help you!” He got out of the chair and crossed the room to Basch. “You are my friend, are you not?”

Basch nodded slowly. “I like to think so.”

“Well, I’m trying to help my friend… _both_ of my friends. Speak to her. Resolve this. I will schedule our departure for tomorrow morning if you do.”

Basch considered it a moment before he nodded again. “It will be as you command, Lord.”

Larsa rolled his eyes. “Good enough, I suppose. Lady Ashe?”

Basch blinked once at Larsa before he turned his head to the doorway. Ashe stood there. She wrung the hem of her robe. “Will you speak with me?”

“Yes.” He returned his glare to Larsa. “ _You_ are a conniving brat.”

Larsa shrugged innocently at Basch before exiting to his own quarters.

-=-=-=-=-=-

“You will not stay.” Not a question.

He did not drop his eyes. “No.”

Ashe dropped her gaze to her slippered feet, and her face twisted with sorrow. “I never told you why I wanted you to stay with me.”

Basch did not respond. He didn’t have to. His countenance became stony.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I wanted you to sleep in my bed, and love me. I told you that I wanted you – that I needed you, and that was the truth.” She began to cry in great, braying sobs.

Basch instinctively reached for her to give comfort. He had to rein that imperative with both hands. He forced his traitorous, shaking fists to his sides. He didn’t want to touch her anymore, but even more disconcerting – he did not want to hear what she had to say. Her tears terrified him.

Ashe regained control of herself. She dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her robe. “I wanted you to stay with me so that I could show you how I felt. I wanted to show you because I never knew how to tell you, in words, how much I loved you.”

The very breath was knocked out of Basch’s lungs. His eyes widened as he opened his mouth in astonishment – and rage. “You… _what_?”

She took two hasty steps back, but Basch was upon her. He grabbed her upper arms, and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. He yanked her body close to his, but it was nothing like Ashe envisioned. He brought his face down to hers, and bellowed his pain to her.

“I kept myself from you when we first were reunited, and you treated me with disdain. In time you grew closer to me, and confided in me, and I grew to love you – and _still_ I kept my distance! I would not sully you, nor would I force myself on you! And the night by the bonfire…” Basch released her arms slowly. His voice was hoarse from shouting, and from the horrible, incapacitating emotions he now felt. “That night by the bonfire, you gave yourself to me because we weren’t thinking clearly. It took me two years to come to terms with that. Now… _now_ you tell me you love me?”

It was Ashe’s turn to hold her hands out to give comfort, but Basch ignored her. He pressed his hand against his mouth as he turned away. Ashe licked her lips nervously. “Basch?” She took a deep breath. “The night at the bonfire…I may have been intoxicated by the Madhu and ambrosia, but when we made love, I was in possession of all my faculties. When I gave myself to you that night, I did it because I loved you…and I still do.”

Basch slowly turned back to Ashe. She gasped at the sight of tears in her taciturn friend’s eyes. Basch shook his head slowly at Ashe. “You twist the knife in my heart. You’re killing me.”

Ashe pressed on. “I realize now that I've always loved you, but I'm afraid that I’ve lost you.”

He took her biceps into his hands again, albeit much more gently. “Never. You’ve never lost me.” Basch drew Ashe close. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

She shook her head also. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

His stony countenance fractured. “ _I_ needed you to.”

Ashe’s hands crept to her mouth. “Gods. I’ve hurt you so much.” She dropped her head on Basch’s shoulder. “I’ve done you a grave disservice. I deserve it if you never came back.” She raised her eyes to his. “I’m so sorry, Basch. Forgive me.”

They enveloped each other, and Basch rested his cheek against the top of Ashe’s head. One tear escaped his steely grip. It rolled down his cheek to her sandy hair, and disappeared.

“I pretended to hate you for so long, that I nearly began to believe it, myself,” whispered Basch. “I missed you.”

Ashe nodded. “And I, you. Can we fix this, do you think?”

After an eternity, Basch raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but dry. “I…I wish I knew.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The next morning they walked, hand in hand, to the promenade where the Prince Regent’s ship waited. It mattered not that he couldn’t feel her skin through his leather gauntlet. It lightened his heart that she still wished to be this close, even after their conversation the night before.

They both decided that it would be best to start from the beginning; it would be best that they rid themselves of the past and start fresh. Best to become friends once again.

Here was the ship. She wished it would break down, and then perhaps Basch would have to stay another day or so. But no, it was ready to leave for Archades…and leave he must, for the Prince Regent Larsa’s coronation was less than a year away, and there was too much planning, too much preparation to stay overlong. She turned to Basch, and smiled.

“Judge Magister?"

She could hear Basch’s snort of laughter under his helmet. “Yes, your Majesty?”

She squeezed his hand. “Will you write to me, Basch?”

He released Ashe, and took off his helmet. He smiled. “Every day, if you wish it.” Suddenly bashful, he took her hand again. “Will you write to me?”

“I promise you.” She looked at Larsa as he stood in wait for his guardian. They exchanged a smile before Larsa waved cheerily and boarded the vessel. She returned her gaze to Basch. “Will you take something to Archades for me?”

He nodded. “Of course, Lady Ashe.”

“I’m giving it to you on one condition…you must return it to me when you come back next year.”

Nonplussed, he nodded again. “Anything for you.”

She moved closer, gently took his face between her palms, and tenderly kissed his mouth. Basch blinked once before gifting Ashe with his gentle smile. He dimpled slightly. His smile touched his eyes, lit them from within, and her heart squeezed painfully.

Basch removed one gauntlet and ran the back of his fingers along Ashe’s cheek. He smiled sadly. “Farewell, Majesty.”

With that, he boarded Prince Larsa’s private ship. As it pulled away from Ashe, she waved goodbye until her arms hurt and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.


	15. Epilogue: One Year of Love

Ashe sat at her writing table. Basch didn’t lie – he wrote to Ashe every week. She glanced at the enormous pile of letters, some now worn around the edges. Sometimes she read and reread his loopy, scrawling script until the parchment was torn and stained. She touched the sheaf of parchment and smiled fondly.

She turned to her new diary. It was so empty. She grinned. Soon enough, it would be filled with all her dreams and neuroses and peeves. She laughed to herself as she bent to the book, and flipped it open to the first parchment leaf.

_Larsa’s coronation was last week, and it was wonderful. The ceremony was full of pomp and splendour, but seeing old friends filled me with joy, even more so than the idea of a just Emperor on the throne of Archadia. Everyone was in attendance, even Fran and Balthier. I think I missed those sky-pirate ragamuffins the most!_

_I saw Basch that day, and of course Gabranth had to keep up appearances and guard the new Emperor – but I really wish I could’ve addressed him once by his own name, and heard my own from his lips…_

“Ashe.”

She looked up from her diary, and smiled widely. “It’s about time." 

Basch’s elbow was cocked up on the doorframe, and he rested his hand atop his still-short hair. His other arm was tucked behind his back. Ashe’s breath caught, and not just because he looked so wonderful – he looked healthy in body _and_ mind. He was finally _whole_.

He raised his shoulders minutely. “Forgive me if I was over-late. State matters, Majesty. You understand, no?”

She placed her own elbow on her writing table, and as she placed her chin in her palm she grinned impishly. “Just don’t let it happen again, Basch.”

She appraised his choice of clothing openly, and silently approved. The cut of his clothing was distinctly Archadian, but he added his own flair to it. His tunic was still red (his color of choice – and her favorite, she noted), and had the popular Archadian three-quarter sleeves, laced fasteners instead of buttons, and narrow collar. Instead of cloth, it looked as if he tooled it from leather. To complete his own unique look, he had tucked his family’s crest in his pants pocket.

Ashe snorted. “You couldn’t resist wearing your mother’s potholder, could you?” They shared a laugh over his past fashion choices, before Ashe realized Basch was hiding something. She jerked her chin at what was hidden behind his back. “What is that?”

Basch wore an endearing expression of good-natured amusement. “I have something for you.”

“Oh? Do you now?” She smiled sweetly as she rose from her chair and approached Basch. “And what would that be?”

He grinned wolfishly, and revealed a bottle of Bhujerban Madhu. “Vintage, Majesty. Care for some?”

She favored him with a mock-admonishing look, and glanced sidelong at him. “Isn’t that one of the things that got us in trouble in the first place?”

He plonked the bottle on her writing table, and hooked his arm around her waist. Basch's eyebrows waggled the slightest bit. “Perhaps I _want_ that kind of trouble.”

Ashe’s fingers toyed with the laces on Basch’s shirt (leather, like she surmised). “Weren’t we starting over again, Basch?”

One side of his mouth curled. “We are. We’re starting this off _right_.” He tapped the bottle. Ashe glanced down at it, and gasped. Wrapped around the widest part of the body was a simple silver armband. Ashe slipped it off the bottle, and marveled at its barbaric beauty. She read the inscription: _no Beginning, and no End._

Ashe slipped it onto her left arm. “Oh, it’s like Daza and Ori’s bands!”

Pleased that Ashe remembered the story-weaver’s tale, Basch nodded as he tilted her chin slightly – all the better to lock eyes with his beautiful Queen.

Ashe wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh! It’s beautiful…thank you!” She smiled warmly at him. “But Basch, you’ve forgotten to return the _other_ gift to me.”

Basch drew her close, and Ashe felt his need. Her body responded in kind. “No. I haven’t,” he said. “I’ve not forgotten for one day, for one _moment_ , of this entire year. May I return the gift?”

Ashe nodded, and Basch bent his head to hers. Before their lips touched, she smiled and said: “Welcome home, Basch.”


End file.
